


To Make You Feel My Love

by ThatBitchintheCorner



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Falling In Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, Mutual Pining, Sex in the Bookshop (Good Omens), it’s more likely than you think
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2020-01-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 03:26:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 32
Words: 38,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21756760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatBitchintheCorner/pseuds/ThatBitchintheCorner
Summary: For Drawlight’s 31 Days of Ineffables and ever after. These are little segments in time that showcase how these two idiots fell in love and how they handled what came after The End of the World that Wasn’t. There is some sexy bits, some violence and lots of fluff. All named people in the story are actual poets, artists, writers and actors. The dates are of historical importance too! Thanks for being one of the 5 people that will read this!!
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 42





	1. 1844

Mistletoe prompt!

At a lavish Christmas party in 1844, a dapper gentleman stands, glass of warm brandy in hand, among a group of writers, scholars, businessmen and politicians, laughing and enjoying the festivities. 

The gentleman finishes his brandy, and miraculously his glass refills. His eyes focus on a tray filled with puffed pastries being hoisted through the crowd by a sharply dressed butler. The gentleman follows the alluring confections as he snakes through the throng if people, exchanging smiles with familiar faces.

A bell jingles, announcing the arrival of a guest most tardy, and a familiar sensation stops the gentleman in his pastry pursuit. 

“Ah! Master Crowley! You made it.” The lord of the manner clasped his hands in delight. 

“Yes, well better late than not at all.” Crowley muttered as he handed his coat, hat and cane to the maid. “Besides, I heard a friend of mine would be in attendance, so I’m here.”

The gentleman was eager to greet the newcomer, yet was outpaced by a group of young men who clustered adoringly around the tall, slender and daringly elegant guest. His shoulders slumped and a pang of disappointment coursed through him as he watched the men vie for Crowley’s attention. The gentleman returned to his pursuit of petite fours, and resigned to sulk quietly in an empty archway.

“You’ve never been one to shy away from conversation.” A voice says sarcastically as a figure appears to his left. “Unless of course there’s food involved.”

“I didn’t realize you were invited to this affair.” 

“Well of course! The host is a dear friend of mine.” Crowley teased.

“How the devil are you friends with Master Dickens?”

“Aziraphale, you’re the one who said I should help him leave that dreadful workhouse! Besides, he’s a decent writer. I know you enjoyed the first edition copy of “A Christmas Carol” I gave you.” Crowley grinned.

“You know I did, but why are you here, celebrating Christmas with this lot?” Aziraphale, still visible annoyed, asked with impunity.

“Because I heard you would be in attendance, and because I prefer to celebrate with you.” The demon said quietly as he pulled a flask from inside his jacket, taking a generous sip. “I thought that was obvious.” He offered the flask to the angel, who quickly accepted.

“You’re certain you do not wish to  celebrate  with your admirers? They certainly looked as if they wanted to  celebrate  with you.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes as he punctuated his words.

“I had hoped to celebrate the birth of the Christ child with you but if you prefer to remain alone...”

“No!” Aziraphale yelled louder than he intended, surprising both of them. “That is, I would prefer you stay.” He fidgeted for a moment before continuing. “You and I are the only ones alive who actually knew him, oddly enough, you remind me of him. That’s not to say that you’re...”

“I know what you’re trying to say, and oddly enough, you remind me of him also. He was a good man, and he certainly didn’t deserve to suffer the way your lot made him.” Crowley chided.

“Well, Happy Birthday to the Lord’s child.” Aziraphale raised his glass to toast, Crowley tilted his flask against his glass. They both took a large swig from their respective drinks.

“Aziraphale,” the demon began. “I am glad to be sharing this holiday with you.”

“Me too.” Aziraphale swallowed the remainder of his brandy, tipping his glass and his head towards the ceiling. “Oh! Look, Crowley!” He pointed towards the top of the arch above them.

“Mistletoe?” An amused Crowley said playfully.“I suppose we should kiss now. Which one of us came up with that silly ritual?”

“I did, and it’s not silly at all!” The angel remarked indignantly. “It’s romantic and tradition! 

“Well, considering that you’re standing under some and that you haven’t been kissed means that you’re breaking tradition.” Crowley teased.

“You’re standing here too!” The angel sputtered, trying to come up with a snappy retort, yet was clearly flustered.

“Are you asking for a kiss, angel?”

Aziraphale’s eyes grew wide, his cheeks turning crimson as he fumbled with the button on his waistcoat. “Those are the rules, I mean...it would be wrong to break them.”

The angel lifted his head and caught the demon’s gaze, despite the dark glasses, he could see how large Crowley’s eyes had become; how his fingers seemed to tremble as his body slightly began to sway. Aziraphale took a step closer, leaning towards the demon,his gaze unwavering.

Crowley stood, frozen, as Aziraphale kissed his cheek, softly, gently and wholly unexpected. 

“Happy Christmas, Crowley.” The angel murmured before turning and nearly sprinting away, throwing his brandy snifter to the floor.

The demon watched him go. He touched the spot where the angel’s lips had been a moment before, and took a step backwards. He scooped the cracked glass off the floor, and put it in his coat pocket.

“Happy Christmas, my angel.” He whispered, yet his words sounded considerably like  I love you . 


	2. 1943

Snow prompt!

The streets of London are slowly being blanketed by a layer of thick, fluffy snow. A gentleman makes his way through the cold, seemingly unbothered as droplets fall onto his face and gather upon the crown of his head. 

He arrives at the door of his bookshop, the cumulation of all his efforts and his own personal space to support his ever growing collection of texts. A warmth fills his body as he steps through the door. The space is indeed magnificent, and while customers have been shuttling into his shop here and there for countless years since it opened, mostly he is left to his own devices to work and occasionally, socialize.

The door opens suddenly with a snap, and in saunters a sharply dressed figure, elegantly tailored and impeccably refined. He dusts the heavy white snow off his coat and removes his black hat, placing it carefully on the rack. 

“Fancy a chocolate, angel? They’re from that new Italian bakery that just opened downtown.” The demon said as he casually walked around the stacks of books still laid upon the floor. “Funny trying to find a shop open, despite it being Christmas Eve.”

“You know I’m never one to say no to chocolate. But what is chocolate without a little wine?”

“Oh!” Crowley said with delight. “You still have some stashed away then?”

“Perhaps a bottle or two.” Aziraphale winked as he produced several bottles of fine red wine.

“Take any one you like, some of them have rum in them.” Crowley offered, “The lady says she only makes them at Christmas and that she adds a little love message on the bottom of one of the wrappers, but only if you’re lucky enough to find the special one out of the batch.”

“No luck here, what about you?” Aziraphale said as he tossed a confection into his mouth. “Oh! This one has nuts!”

“Nnnnh.” Crowley shrugged his shoulders as he took another swing of wine, leaving the candies untouched.

They sat in Aziraphale’s small office, as they had so many times before, drinking and laughing, bickering and lamenting, as the snow continues to fall. 

“Now angel, this has been a delicious evening, but I’m afraid I must be leaving.” Crowley hiccuped as he swayed gently. 

He walked towards the rack where he placed his hat, and set it back atop his head. Aziraphale, looking remarkably concerned as he watched the snow from the window, quickly hurried toward the door.

“The snow has gotten worse, and I fear the conditions are near impossible to navigate tonight. Perhaps it’s best you remain here until the storm blows out.” The angel fussed.

“Ahhh, don’t be so worried! Now, stand aside and let me go.” Crowley sputtered as he sidestepped past the angel and reached for the door handle. He opened it, and the wind nearly off its hinges, allowing a burst of cold air to sweep into the bookshop, sending papers flying.

“Oh come now, you would go out into the cold on a night like this?” Aziraphale chided.

“Are you suggesting that I stay the night here?”

“Well, your car is under several meters of snow and you don’t care for the cold.”

“You are most correct, I don’t care for the cold. But it’s not a long drive, and I’m certain my car will be warm.”

“I am suggesting, simply, that you wait out the storm here.”

“If I didn’t know better, angel, I’d say you wanted me to stay the night.”

“Crowley, how you drive in the best of weather is likely to get you discorporated, much less trying to drive in this mess. This is an issue of safety.”

“I could just miracle myself home, have you considered that?”

“And leave your car? That doesn’t sound like something you would do, considering it is new.”

“Alright, I will stay! You’ve convinced me. Happy?”

Azirpahale was suddenly embarrassed, nervous about his being so insistent that Crowley stay. He began to question his reasons for asking the demon to remain; perhaps it was the alcohol, or the sudden desire for company. He shivered a bit, unsure what to say next. 

“Let’s get back to drinking then, angel. Please tell me you have more wine or scotch or anything.” Crowley laughed as he put his hat back on the coat rack.

“Perhaps I do.” Aziraphale mused. “Too bad you don’t have anymore of those chocolates.” He grumbled.

“Who’s to say I don’t?” Crowley grinned as he pulled another box of chocolates from his jacket pocket.

“You? You had those this entire time! Who were you intending on giving them to?” The angel asked, clearly annoyed.

“I was planning on leaving them here for you as a Christmas surprise, but someone insisted on me staying and therefore ruining the surprise.” Crowley declared in exaggerated tone as he sauntered through the bookshop, plucking pages that had scattered onto the floor. 

“Well, then I suppose I should offer you a drink and my hospitality as an attempt to remedy my faux pas.”Aziraphale said as he opens a cupboard, revealing several decanters filled with honey colored liquor.

“Holding out on me then, angel?” Crowley picked up his glass and offered it to Aziraphale, who generously filled it to the brim before filling his own.

“A toast, to another Christmas spent with good cheer and good company!” Aziraphale relaxed and permitted himself to laugh as some of the alcohol spilled over from cups onto the floor.

“Tempt you to another chocolate?” Crowley teased.

“Must you put it that way?” Aziraphale rolled his eyes, as he plucked a chocolate from the box, as he did, a small slip of paper slid off and landed on the floor. “Oh! What’s this?” He leaned over, plucked the paper from where it lay, and read it aloud. 

_“il mio amore per sempre”_ Aziraphale read, his voice soft and gentle. He smiled warmly, his gaze met Crowley’s, he was surprised to see that the demon has been watching him. “My Italian is a bit rusty, what does it mean?”

“My love forever.” Crowley said softly, tying ever so hard not to blush.

“It would appear that I found the lucky chocolate!” He declared as he set the slip down on the table beside him.

“Lucky indeed.” Crowley nodded, tipping his glass. “Happy Christmas angel.”

“Happy Christmas Crowley.”

The night wore on, and the pair continued theirdrinking and laughing long after the storm ended. Crowley made his exit late morning, leaving behind his hat and taking with him an empty box that once contained an assorted selection of lucky chocolates.


	3. 1954

Nutcracker Prompt!

“It’s Balanchine’s choreography, and it’s the Royal Ballet! It’s a miracle we were able to get tickets, much less orchestra seats! Come now, dear, I absolutely do not want to be late.” Aziraphale worried as he paced the bookshop floor. 

“I don’t care if it’s Satan himself who did the choreography, I don’t want to go and suffer through another stuffy ballet performance.” Crowley rolled his eyes.

“But...you promised!” The angel flashed a look of disappointment, holding the demon’s gaze for longer than he should. “And it’s Christmas! This is the first time they’ve performed this ballet in England!”

“Oh fine!” Crowley sighed dramatically. “But don’t expect me to stay awake.”

“Splendid! You’re not wearing that, are you?” Aziraphale said disapprovingly.

“Hnnn!” The demon snapped his fingers, as his clothes changed to a elegantly cut suit, his hair pinned back under his black Homburg hat. “Better?” He grumbled.

“Leagues better.” Aziraphale cooed as he adjusted the demon’s flashy tie. “Now, try not to get us discorporated with your driving, that would be a complete nightmare.”

The pair made haste to the Royal Opera House, with Aziraphale fretting the entire duration. Crowley parked the Bentley in front of the building, he quickly jumped out and ran around to open the door for the angel.

“Thank you, my dear.” Aziraphale said sweetly.

“Let’s get this over with.” Crowley grumbled as they made their way into the theater. He purchased a program, which Aziraphale promptly commandeered as they took their seats. 

“Do you remember the first time we saw this ballet?” The angel murmured.

“No.” 

“Of course you do! We went to Russia, you said you had to tempt the tsar to pick a fight with France. I was there for a minor miracle to help with the famine.”

“It was cold and the alcohol was terrible.”

“So you do remember!” Aziraphale smiled, clearly pleased.

“I remember you begging me to go see some new production, yet you failed to tell me that it was dance.”

“I did not beg! And I remember you asking me to go. Something about the tsar and his family being in attendance. Shh! It’s starting.”

Crowley did, in fact, enjoy ballet. He enjoyed it so much, he spent a decade dancing with the Paris Ballet under the moniker Antonia Crowe in the mid-1700’s. Naturally, he would never admit this to anyone, much less Aziraphale, for he would demand a performance.

Much had changed from the original version they saw in 1892, and while he hated to admit it, the story of Clara and her trip through the Land of Sweets was delightful. 

Tchaikovsky’s score changed, the swell of the orchestra gave life to the music as the Pas de Deux began. Two dancers emerged, clearly in love as they danced elegantly across the stage.  Beautiful , he thought to himself. He turned to whisper as much to Aziraphale, when he beheld a sight he had not seen before; the angel was crying. Tears slipped down his round cheeks, as the angel adoringly watched the dancers perform. And then it happened.

Before Crowley could react, he felt a hand fall upon his own, warm fingers sliding on top of his, causing him to gasp in surprise. Aziraphale’s eyes never left the figures on the stage, while Crowley could not take his from the celestial body beside him.

Crowley’s heart beat wildly, he slipped his hand over carefully lacing his own fingers in between the angel’s, giving a gentle squeeze as they settled on the arm rest between their seats. The demon didn’t dare to move, didn’t dare to breathe as they remained, hand in hand as the ballet continued to its end. Finally separating when the curtain fell and Aziraphale leapt to his feet in joyous applause. Crowley reminded in his seat, frozen still, from the moment that had transpired between them. More than a touch; the joining of their entities that has never occurred in such a manner before, and he didn’t want it to end.

_He held my hand_

Crowley could scarcely breathe, could scarcely move.  He held my hand.

The house lights came on as their signal to leave, and he knew their moment was over. He fumbled for his overcoat, desperate to maintain his cool and collected appearance, despite being quite the contrary. 

“Oh, they were magnificent!” Aziraphale gushed as they exited the Opera House and walked to the Bentley. “The Pas de Deux was heavenly! How did you find The Nutcracker performance, my dear?”

“Breathtaking.” Crowley whispered. “Just breathtaking.” He says once more as he tucks the program away into the inside pocket of his jacket. 


	4. 1668

Cranberries prompt!

In a tavern in London, a gentleman sits at a table, attempting to enjoy a cup of mead and a dinner of poultry and bread. He is alone in his thoughts, lost in memories. He happens to hear the sound of a voice most unmistakable from across the room.

The voice belongs to a tall, dapper man with long hair that looks as if it were ablaze in the candle light.  _Crowley_ . He tries to conceal his excitement, for there was something about the demon that excited him so profoundly.

“Fancy meeting you here.” Aziraphale says warmly. “What brings you to London?”

“I’m meant to be tempting some political group to over throw the monarchy, but it would appear they have beaten me to it.” Crowley raised his eyebrow at a group of men sitting at the other table.

“Well I’m here making sure England avoids another war. I forget how paltry the food is in these parts. So hard to get anything decent.” Aziraphale grumbled as he picked at the crust of bread.

“Well, it would appear that I have something you might enjoy. As luck would have it, I managed to get my hands on a barrel of what I hoped was wine from the New World, imagine my disappointment when I discovered these instead of alcohol.” Crowley said as he produced a glass bottle containing clusters of round, red berries. “I heard these are treasures from the colonies; highly sought after as a delicacy.”

“Well, color me intrigued.” Aziraphale clapped his hands together in excitement.

“Don’t eat too many of them all at once. They’re not easy to come by.” 

Aziraphale opened the bottle and removed one of the berries, examining it before putting it in his mouth. 

“Well? As good as the colonists claim?” Crowley asked eagerly.

“Tart! Oh and sour! But somehow sweet and juicy at the same time. By the Lord, I’ve never tasted anything like it before.” Aziraphale said with delight as he ate another, and another. 

“I take it you like them then?” 

“Very much. What did you say they’re called?”

“Crumberry or something that sounds rather like that.”

“Crumberry! Strange name, but what will these humans think of next? Seems strange we haven’t seen these around before.”

“They only grow in the New World, apparently, something about the dirt over there that makes things taste better.”

“Excuse me, but do you know this man? We have heard that he is in league with the Jacobites, and we don’t take kindly to their lot in our establishment.” The tavern owner scowled. 

“Either he leaves now, or there’s going to be trouble.” One of the men from the table stands up, menacingly slamming his hand on the table.

“Yes I know him,” Aziraphale said, adjusting the collar on his jacket. “He is my friend, and I won’t have anyone speaking ill of him in my presence.” He clunked a series of coins down on the table and finished his drink. “We were just leaving, isn’t that right dear?”

“I think that would be wise.” Crowley said as he placed his hat back onto his head. “Right.”

“Don’t let us catch you in this city again! You’ll be sorry.” Another man scowls as he shakes his fist in the air.

“Well, what did you do to get them all so angry?” Aziraphale finally asks.

“Not quite sure. Just suggested that perhaps Church and state should be separate, that God had no place in politics.” Crowley shrugged, at this, they both laugh. 

They walk side by side in the moonlight, both quiet for a while.

“So, I’m your friend now then?” Crowley mentions casually.

“Oh. Well, I suppose you are.” The angel answers.

“Friends.” Crowley repeats to himself under his breath. 

“Well, I wasn’t about to let them throw wild accusations at you.”

“Even if they weren’t so wild?”

Aziraphale just sighed. “I suppose even if what they said was true, I am still obligated to defend your honor.”

“Careful now, I might take advantage of your sense of honor.”

They continue strolling, parting when they arrive at Aziraphale’s evening accommodations. The demon bids the angel goodnight, and carefully turns over a coin in his hand, one that he snatched from the table in the tavern.  _Friends_.  He whispers to himself as he tucks the coin into his jacket pocket. 


	5. 1297

Fire Prompt!

In the Scottish countryside, a young man and woman are joined as husband and wife, forever binding their lives together. All the villagers gather to attend the ceremony, as do an angel and a demon.

“What the deuce are you doing here?” Aziraphale asked with curiosity.

“Just in Scotland to tempt a knight to some shenanigans against the English. What are you doing here?” Crowley answered plainly.

“I’m meant to be performing a minor miracle for the English.” The angel sighed. “But frankly, I’d rather not, seeing how the English have been treating these good people.”

“They are quite the rowdy lot, aren’t they?” Crowley laughed as he watched two guests brawling, both men finished the fight and stood up and embraced. “I rather like them.”

“Let me do this one, the tempting and the miracle.” Crowley offered.

“But...what if they find out?”

“We’ve done this several times now, and what has been the result? Nothing. Because our respective offices don’t care.”

“Are you sure, my dear?”

“Absolutely. What’s the worst that can happen? A minor miracle and a little temptation, it’s not like it will lead to outright war between the English and the Scottish.” Crowley laughed.

“Alright. But this is the last time we do this, agreed?” The angel raised his glass and the demon raised his own.

“Oh look!” Aziraphale said with concern. “The bride has lost the sprig of baby’s breath from her bouquet! That’s meant to bring the couple luck in the future.”

“Give it to me, I’ll slip it back in, no one will know it went missing.” Crowley said as he takes the delicate white flowers from the angel’s hand.

“Oh thank you! It’s their custom, you know.”

“I do.” Crowley said slyly.

Night falls on the wedding party, yet the festivities continue to flourish thanks in part to a roaring bonfire illuminating the sky with a dazzling display of orange, red and gold. The bride, clutching the arm of her new husband laughs gaily as the band begins to play once more. They begin their dance, the wedding march and all in attendance join in slowly, two by two.

“Fancy a dance?” Crowley asked as he set down his glass of ale.

“You know full well angel’s don’t dance. Besides, I don’t know how.”

“I don’t know either, but what does it matter? Everyone here is drunk and not above making fools of themselves.”

“Fine.” Aziraphale fidgeted nervously. 

The pair made their way behind the procession, following along as best as they both could with the movements of the traditional dance. While neither of them managed to get it right, the demon glanced over at the angel, delighted to see he was grinning; his near white hair flashing silver in the glow of the firelight. 

“Having fun, Aziraphale?” Crowley asked with a smile.

“It’s delightful! But I’m afraid I’m terrible.”

“You are, but then again, so is everyone else here.” They both laughed and continued to laugh the rest of the night. 

Eventually the band fell silent, the party guests dwindled until only a smattering of intoxicated fellows remained, and one angel and one demon. 

“Suppose this means the party is over.” Aziraphale murmured, hardly containing the disappointment in his voice.

“Come on then, I’ll see you back to your lodging.” Crowley offered and the pair strolled along into the night. 

They arrived at the inn house, each saying their goodbyes as if they were reluctant to be parting. 

“Oh! You did return the baby’s breath to the brides bouquet, right?” Aziraphale asked.

“Naturally.” 

“Ah, good then. Goodnight Crowley. I had a good time tonight.”

“Good night Aziraphale. As did I.” The demon turns and walks away, he slides his hand into his pocket, removing a single sprig of a tiny white flower, a small cluster that wouldn’t have been missed from the larger vine. He holds it in his hand as he smiles to himself.  _Fancy a dance_?  He recalls the image of a certain angel, floppy limbs and awkward steps, yet somehow the most graceful being he’s ever seen. The image of glowing silver hair in the moonlight forever etched in his memory. He closed his hand around the tiny flowers before slipping it into his jacket pocket once more.  _Well imagine that, an angel that does, in fact, dance._


	6. 1735

Sleigh bells prompt

In a fine salon in Paris, several distinguished men are seated around an ornately carved table, all engaged in a rousing debate of religion and philosophy.

“I hear what you’re saying, my friend, but what if there is no God and that morality is a construct created by man to keep control of their lesser impulses.” A younger gentleman said, upsetting the group.

“One would have to presume that man’s impulses are evil in nature. I do not believe that men are created evil, surely there is a God and He plays a role in all our lives.” An older, more aristocratic man replied.

“But what if there is a God and He doesn’t interfere with our lives at all. What if we were just created for creation sake, and that God has abandoned us to our own devices.” The evening’s host, a fair haired, refined man said as he lifted his glass.

“Abandoned?” Aziraphale sputtered, nearly dropping his chalice of fine French wine. “You believe God would abandon mankind?”

“Mr. Fell, when is the last time God spoke to humans? Moses? Can we even be certain that is was God speaking and not Satan? Or just a hallucination of the mind? No, I believe that there is a God, but that He has no interest in what his creations do with their lives.” The host replied.

“Just because you cannot understand God’s plan doesn’t mean that The Almighty has abandoned humanity.” Aziraphale mused. “I mean, God’s plan is, by definition...”

“Ineffable.” A voice belonging to a suave, elegantly dressed figure interrupts their discussion. “What my friend is trying to say is that God’s Plan is ineffable and not meant for us to understand. But my money is on God laughing at us all for trying to make sense of any of this nonsense.”

“Ah! Mr. Crowley, good to see you.” The host said warmly. “Come, there is always a place for you at our table.”

“I hear he has some most unusual ideas about Heaven and Hell. Such a delight to have the chance to converse with him!” The younger man says in a hushed tone, clearly quite impressed. 

The group continues to debate as the evening grows late.

“Do you honesty believe that God doesn’t give a damn about humans?” Aziraphale argued.

“No! I’m saying The Almighty does’t care about humans- I’m saying She doesn’t care about any of Her creations!” Crowley threw his head back in laughter as the room erupts in furious protest over his choice of pronouns.

“Come now, you know that’s not true.” Aziraphale, ignoring the ramble, yelled.

“Is it,  _angel_?”  He replied quickly. Too quickly. The table fell into a hush as the members whispered among themselves.

Sensing the shift in the room, Aziraphale lowered his voice. “Now, my dear, why don’t we agree to disagree. Let us toast to the rousing discussions had on this fine evening, and a toast to our enigmatic host, Monsieur Voltaire.” 

As the occupants raised their glasses, more than a few conspicuous glances were exchanged. 

Very quietly, their host turned towards Aziraphale, speaking in a hushed tone. “You know, Mr. Fell, many have had their eye on Mr. Crowley for quite sometime. Out of everyone, I’m glad it’s you.”

“Oh!” The angel’s eyes grew wide, but before he could answer, a certain demon flanked his left.

“Lift home?” Crowley asked.

“Let me get my coat.” Aziraphale replied in kind.

The pair exited together, this was not unexceptional, except for tonight, there would be talk long after their departure. 

A jingle of sleigh bells heralded the arrival of Crowley’s carriage; a sleek, black sled pulled by 2 massive, jet black horses with glowing red eyes. Crowley opened the door, allowing Aziraphale to enter first. The demon snapped his fingers and the horses galloped at magnificent speeds.

“I rather like our fine host.” Aziraphale said, breaking the silence. “That is, I respect his opinions more than that horrid Rousseau fellow.”

“I agree. Voltaire is a friend, we have much in common.” The demon remarked.

“Is he also a snake?” Aziraphale asked innocently.

“Ha! No! I’m saying that he alters is appearance to reflect who he is on the inside.”

“Like you in Bethlehem and Golgotha and Rome and...”

“Yes. Exactly like that.” 

“Ah. I like him very much, but his ideas are quite radical.” He turned the conversation. “You know, I believe we might be the topic of gossip after this evening.” Aziraphale fidgeted in his seat as he spoke.

“Why is that?” Crowley, desperately trying to maintain his composure.

“I believe it’s because you called me angel.” 

“It just slipped out. I don’t believe I revealed you as a celestial being.”

“I think, I mean, what they assumed, was that we are...Well, I think they took it as a term of endearment.”

“A term of endearment?” Crowley nearly slid off his seat. He settled himself and gave a laugh. “I called you angel because that is what you are.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale said quietly, trying not to sound disappointed. 

“You always call me dear, so how is angel any different?”

“I don’t know, it seemed rather...personal, intimate.”

“I can stop if you prefer.”

“No no, I didn’t say that. I’ll get used to it.” 

“Very well then.” Crowley snaps his fingers and the sled comes to an abrupt halt. The bells on the harness continue to ring, providing a beautiful melody against an otherwise quiet night; a serenade of chimes singing through the streets of London.

“Thank you for the ride home.” Aziraphale said warmly, almost hesitant to leave.

“You’re most welcome. Goodnight angel.” Crowley grinned as he raised his eyebrow. 

“Oh you!” Aziraphale laughed as he shuts the door behind him. 

“Goodnight, my angel.”  Crowley whispers to himself as he commands the sleigh forward, into the darkness. In his coat pocket, an invitation for the next salon gave thering, three months hence at Voltaire’s Burgundy residence. The writing on the card caused his heart to skip a beat.

“ To Mr. Crowley and Mr. Fell”

_Well_. He thought to himself , _I’ll be damned_.  As he carefully slid the invite back into the jacket pocket.

What he couldn’t know is that in his London residence, a certain angel received the same invite. He tucked it away, in an unassuming box, the contents included: a red flower forever in bloom, a single black feather, a scroll with scorched ends and several other items. None of them having any particular monetary value, yet each precious in their own way to their owner.


	7. Last Christmas

Silent Night Prompt!

In an antiquated bookshop in London’s Soho, an angel and a demon are quietly reflecting on the events that have lead to coming of the final days.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale began. “I’ve been thinking, what if this really is the very last Christmas.”

“I’m sure it won’t come to that, angel.” The demon tried to calm himself.

“But what if it does?”

“Then we should make the most out of tonight then. Cheers.” Crowley tipped his wine glass towards Aziraphale’s.

They continue their drinking and reminiscing long into the night. Finally, Aziraphale brings up a topic they had not spoken about in thousands of years.

“Do you recall the first Christmas? Back in Bethlehem?”

“I recall you making a rather large mess of things.” Crowley replied with exaggeration.

“How was I to know the inn keeper’s feeble-minded son was tending the inn that night? I told the inn keeper to keep watch for a heavily pregnant woman and her husband. Humans.” The intoxicated angel languished.

“Come now, sometimes they get it right.” Crowley chided. “I remember you having to give some speech sitting on top of that terribly rickety horse stable.”

“If I’d been any heavier, I would have fallen straight through and damn near taken out poor Joseph.”

“I doubt he would have minded. God really chuffed it up for him. Poor man just wanted to get married and he gets saddled with raising the Christ Child.”

“It was an honor!” Aziraphale argued.

“It was cruel. Seems like something my lot would do.”

“You know what I remember about that night?” Aziraphale said quietly. “I remember feeling relieved when you arrived. That by your being there, everything was going to be alright.”

“There I was thinking you were going to be upset with a demon appearing for the birth of the Lord’s child.”

“You’ve always been there, always fixing things, helping out...saving me.”

“You get into a lot of trouble for an angel, you know that right?” Crowley raised an eyebrow, and Aziraphale blushed. 

“Well, I suppose I’m lucky that you always manage to turn up.”

“Still think it’s been luck?” Crowley laughed. “You don’t give me enough credit.”

“You mean...you knew?” Aziraphale said in amazement.

“Of course I knew! One of us had to keep our eyes open and pay attention!”

Both are quiet for a moment.

“Crowley,” the angel said, breaking the silence between them. “I’m glad it was you.”

“Ngh.” The demon shrugged his shoulders. 

“Should it go wrong, should the world really be ending in a matter of months, I’m thankful to have spent the time with you.”

“Don’t get sentimental on me, angel.” Crowley forced a fake groan, secretly delighted at the angel’s words. “It won’t come to that. We raised Warlock as best we could, and he’s a delightfully normal child.”

“Even still, if this is the last Christmas, I’m happy to be spending it with you.” The angel handed the demon a small box, wrapped in fine paper and trimmed in gold. “This is for you. It’s nothing much.”

Crowley opened the box, inside was a scarlet red flower. The demon looked up, clearly confused by this gift.

“It’s from that night, when Christ was born. You had them in your hair, one fell out when you were helping Mary give birth. I kept it.” Aziraphale’s voice was gentle, his eyes filled with warmth.

“You’ve had it all this time?” Crowley’s voice nearly breaking.

“It’s a shame you never got any credit for all the things you’ve done for humanity.”

“I didn’t do it for the humans, angel.” His eyes beginning to well with tears as he spoke. 

“Oh.” The angel blushed once more.

“I should probably be going, it’s getting late and you know, demonic work to do, temptations to accomplish.” Crowley reluctantly stands. 

“I think we both know you’re going home to sleep off all the wine you drank.” Aziraphale laughed.

“You might be correct.” Crowley reached into his coat pocket and produced a box wrapped in green with a silver bow. “I got you a little something too. It’s nothing special, open it when I’m gone.”

Aziraphale escorts him to the Bentley parked just out front of the shop. The street is silent, something quite remarkable for London at night, and even more so for the holiday. The air is cold, and the moon a waining crescent glittering in the sky. All is calm. 

“Nothing like a silent night, am I right?” Crowley joked to lighten the mood. Something had shifted between them, and if he stayed any longer, he might not ever leave. “Happy Christmas Aziraphale.”

“Happy Christmas Crowley.”

The angel watched the elegant car drive away into the night. He went back into his bookshop and closed the door. He opened the box the demon had left for him, inside, a box of chocolates from the little Italian bakery he was so fond of; the ones Crowley thoughtfully brought him over the years. He selected one, a rum filled cherry covered in dark chocolate, and as he lifts it from the box, a small slip of paper slips to the floor. He carefully picked it up, and read it.

“ _il mio amore per l'eternità”_

“My love for all eternity.”  He whispered to himself.  _Lucky enough to get the special chocolate again_. He thought. Crowley’s words from earlier rang in his ears, “Still think it’s been luck? You don’t give me enough credit.”

_Oh, my dear_. The angel smiled while hummed his favorite Christmas hymn as he placed the slip of paper into a unadorned box. These treasures were, far and away, the most important and special of his possessions. One he had given away on that night, and it was replaced by a message of love. “ _Sleep in Heavenly peace, my darling.”_ He sighed as he closed the lid to the box.  “ _Sleep in Heavenly peace.”_


	8. 1405

Choir prompt 

The swell of the Irish countryside spread as a virulent bed of green encompassing all he could see. The rain continued to fall, much to his dismay, soaking his clothing and matting his hair. He would have preferred to miracle himself dry, yet he had received a stern message from upper management warning him that he performed too many “frivolous miracles”; as if comfort and connivence in this dank country could be considered frivolous.

The damp gentleman arrived at the small village, a quaint settlement built at the base of a great monastery. His purpose for being there was to perform a miracle and repair the ruined stained glass window.  I’m meant to fix a window.  He grumbled to himself.  Seems like a poor reason to be in this wet place.

He found himself in the village’s only inn, and sat down at the crowded bar. He ordered some sort of meat pie and an ale, to his delight, both were absolutely delicious.

“Hello Aziraphale!” A familiar voice rang in his ears as the demon settled into a seat on his left.

“Crowley.” He smiled warmly. “What brings you to this little village?”

“I’m meant to tempt the monks into creating some new type of alcohol.” Crowley grinned; his clothing and hair perfectly composed despite the rain. “You look absolutely drowned! What’s wrong, forget how to miracle?”

“I got a stern warning about performing too many miracles, cured too many humans last century.”Aziraphale complained as he too a swig of ale.

Crowley snapped his fingers and the angel was instantly dry, his hair perfect (even more styled than normal, thanks to the demon’s impeccable taste).

“Oh, thank you.” Aziraphale glowed. “A new alcohol you say?” 

“Yes,” Crowley flashed a devilish smile. “Should be lovely in a few decades, when they perfect the recipe.” 

“I’d rather be doing your job. I’m meant to be repairing a window.” 

“Seems like a waste of your time.” Crowley raised his eyebrow as Aziraphale nodded. “I mean, I could have easily done both while in town.”

“I was just thinking the same thing. How does a temptation work? Do you just whisper in their ear or what?”

“Mostly I just place my hand on their shoulder and tell them what to do. These humans like being told what to do, makes their lives easier. There’s nothing to it really.”

“Seems easy enough.”

“It is, give it a try. See that man over there? He keeps eyeing that barmaid, but is too shy to talk to her. Go tell him that he should ask her for a date.”

“That hardly seems like a temptation.”

“Well, there is lust involved, but that’s how it works.”

“Doesn’t seem so bad. Alright, I’ll give it a go.”

Aziraphale approached the man sitting alone, and laid his hand on the man’s shoulder and leaned in to deliver the temptation. The man nodded.

Aziraphale walked back to his seat beside Crowley. “Nothing happened.”

“Just wait.” The demon assured.

Sure enough, when the barmaid came back, the man spoke to her, both blushed as she shook her head in agreement. 

“See? Nothing to it.” Crowley shrugged.

“Simple enough.” Aziraphale mused as he stirred his drink. “What if...what if tomorrow you get the window and I get the monks?”

“You want to swap jobs?” Crowley coughed as he nearly choked on his ale.

“I don’t see the harm. I mean, what is the worst that could happen?”

They continue drinking long into the night, until the bar keep kicks them out. In the morning, they make their way up to the monastery.

“Can you enter the ground here? I mean, being consecrated and all.” Aziraphale whispered to the being on his left.

“Ha!” Crowley laughed. “This place is a lot less holy than you think. No trouble at all, I think these monks are more aligned with my lot’s manner rather than yours.”

Both paused, as a heavenly sound burst forth from the Great Hall; the choir of monks singing lifted both their spirits, and filled them with wonder.

“They’ve very good.” Aziraphale said with admiration.

“They are, but I’ve heard better.” Crowley dismissed, despite being moved by their song. “Let’s get this over with.”

Crowley did indeed mend the broken stained glass window, while Aziraphale did a little tempting of his own. 

“See, nothing happened. No fire, no brimstone and no fallen angels.” Crowley soothed as he and Aziraphale met back at the bar.

“That was a great bit easier than I imagined.” Aziraphale said quietly, as he watched the man and barmaid passionately kissing at the corner table. 

“Told you as much. Our head offices don’t care as long as the work gets done. Plans for after this?”

“Headed back to London, I’m trying to track down a few texts from last century. I’m hoping they weren’t destroyed after the Plague.”

“That reminds me.” Crowley said as he produced a heavy, old book from inside his jacket. “Saw this lying around and figured you would appreciate it more than those monks.”

“You stole it from them?”

“No! More like borrowed it without the intent of returning it.” Crowley said slyly.

“An early copy of the Vulgate! These are exceptionally difficult come by.” Aziraphale cooed in delight.

“Lucky I spotted it.” 

“Suppose it is. Thank you, this will make a fine addition to my collection.”

“Have you had your fill of temptations, or would you fancy doing this again sometime?”

“As long as it’s nothing terribly sinister. Perhaps we could come to some sort of arrangement.” The angel offered.

“To our arrangement!” Crowley proposed a toast and Aziraphale replied in kind. 

The pair said their goodbyes and prepared to depart. Aziraphale spotted a particularly lovely clover growing just outside the tavern’s gate. He plucked it from the ground and examined it in his hand.

“Lovely, isn’t it?” The angel said as he marveled at the brilliant green treasure.

“Supposed to be lucky, or at least that’s what I told some of the folks in the village.”

“Well, your the one who brings the luck, so I suppose you should have it.” Aziraphale offered sweetly.

“Silly angel.” Crowley tried to appear dismissive as he took the shamrock from his hand.

He watched the angel leave with a miracle. He stood for a few moments longer as he beheld the simple gift in his hand.  _Lucky_. He nearly laughed to himself.  _As if I hadn’t spent half a century hunting down that Bible for him_.  He smiled once more over the angel’s delight in seeing the rare book. He slipped the shamrock into his jacket pocket before vanishing into the sunset.


	9. 41AD

Chestnut Prompt!

In a small Roman restaurant, an angel and a demon sit across from each other, each slightly anxious over being seen together in the public forum. Petronius flittered from table to table, delighting in seeing Aziraphale with an exquisite flame-haired man.

“So what is an oyster anyway?” Crowley asked, attempting to initiate conversation.

“They’re delicious little creature from the sea! Quite nice with a glass of wine, if you ask me.” Aziraphale replied merrily.

“Well, I can get behind the wine at least.”

“Oh come now! At least give it a try!” Aziraphale pouted.

The waiter set down a plate of slimy looking creatures sitting inside shells. The waiter threw a handful of salt and squeezed a half a lemon over them. Aziraphale looked delighted, while Crowley looked unsure.

“See, you take one like this and tip it into your mouth.” Aziraphale said encouragingly.

“Very well, but if I discorporate, you’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Salutaria!” Aziraphale said as he sipped the mollusk from the shell with utter enthusiasm.

Crowley nearly choked as the slippery mass slid slowly down his throat. He swallowed hard and forced a smile. 

“Lovely, is it not?” Aziraphale cooed as he lifted another shell.

“Oh, it’s absolutely something. What was that about wine?” He motioned to the waiter to bring them both a glass. He was most relieved to be rid of that salty taste.

“Have another, I doubt I can finish all of these by myself!” Aziraphale encouraged as Crowley finished his glass of wine, hailing for another.” How’s your temptation going? Making the world a little more devious?” 

“It’s going better than expected. These Romans have some very hedonistic tendencies. And you, hows the old good deeds fairing?”

“Not so well. This emperor, well, I’m afraid he isn’t right in the head so to speak. Makes my job extremely difficult.” 

“I’m sure it will get sorted and turn out in the end. Another drink?”

“How can I say no? Another oyster?”

“I’m saying no.” Crowley replied to which they both laughed, the first time they had shared such a genuine moment.

“This is nice, not dining alone. I’m enjoying the company.” Aziraphale mentioned as casually as he could muster given the entire bottle of wine he had consumed.

“I can’t say I’ve ever dined with anyone before. Save for perhaps Jesus, when we went on our journey around the world.” Crowley mused, remembering the young man.

“I rather liked him. He was kind in an unkind world. Pity I didn’t get to spend much time with him. I wish I could have gotten to know him better, but Gabriel warned me to keep my distance.” Aziraphale hiccuped. 

“Gabriel is the worst.” Crowley shouted, startling the other restaurant occupants.

“He’s not...I mean...oh yes, he is the worst.”

“I really hate that smug bastard. All holier than thou and believes himself superior to everyone else. Where does he get off acting like that?” Crowley grumbled into his cup of wine, lamenting the old days.

“I know! He treats me like I’m an idiot, as if I haven’t been on Earth since the beginning. And I didn’t realize that you knew Gabriel.”

“Yes I know him.” Crowley said quietly, lost in memories. “You are not at all what I expected. That is to say, you’re not like the other angels.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale said, trying not to sound disappointed.

“No no! I mean that as a compliment! The other angels are cold, unfriendly and would never...”

“Invite a demon to dinner.”

“Especially that. But you, you’re everything they’re not, and I’m glad for it.”

“You’re not what I expected either. I rather enjoy your company, despite what I’ve been told about demons.”

“Gentlemen, might I interest you in some roasted chestnuts? They might a fine end to any meal.” The waiter presented a small plate containing 4 large, golden nuts, still steaming with heat. 

“Thank you good sir.” Aziraphale said, excited to be presented with more food. “I don’t know how to eat these.” He whispered to Crowley.

“Can’t be that difficult!” The demon mused.

“Agh!” Aziraphale crunched down on the nut, immediately regretting that decision. “I’m afraid that tastes terrible!” He spat out the outer shell in disgust.

“Now you know how I felt eating that oyster!” Crowley laughed. “Let me have it, try pulling this layer off. There, now try it.”

Aziraphale popped the pealed nut in his mouth and gingerly chewed. “Oh, that’s much better. Thank you.” His eyes glowed in the candle light.

“Thank you.” Crowley said as he watched the angel devour another chestnut.

“For what?”

“For asking me to dine with you.”

“Thank you for coming.” Aziraphale smiled.

“Don’t eat them all! At least let me have that one.” Crowley reached for the last of the chestnuts, concealing it in his hand discreetly.

“One final glass of wine before we part ways?” Aziraphale asked hopefully.

“Of course.” Crowley slipped the chestnut into a small pouch he had inside his tunic. A keepsake, so to speak, of their first shared meal together.  _I would very much so like to do this again._ He thought to himself.  _But next time, I pick the restaurant._


	10. Roughly 9 Hours After the End of the World that Wasn’t

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was a gift not meant to be given. Well, not given yet. There was always the certainty that the recipient would in fact open the box, but that was a someday concept. He’d had centuries to plan it out; lay the scene, sprinkle the sentiment and deliver the gift out of sincere love. It has gone perfectly in his mind, but he should have known by now, that the best laid plans are doomed to fail.
> 
> But this? Any of what had occurred in the days and hours leading up to today? This he never could have predicted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an earlier fic I wrote that weaves together with this story:https://archiveofourown.org/works/20741837

Gold and Silver Prompt!

The bus stopped, and one angel no longer aligned with Heaven and one demon most definitely no longer aligned with Hell stepped off the bus and on to the street. Nothing about this situation was remarkable, save for maybe the slightly out of date clothing on one of the gentleman, the exaggerated walk of the other and perhaps the fact that the world continued to exist despite all efforts to the contrary.

“Coming up, angel?” Crowley asked softly, for he knew he needed to move slowly, gently right now.

“Seems strange, I’ve never been to your flat before. Silly even, given all that’s happened.” Aziraphale attempted a weary smile.

_He’s hurting. He’s lost everything and he’s hurting_.  Crowley winced. This wasn’t at all how he imagined this night might go. But here it was, and here he was, and there was no longer any need for the space between them. 

“I should warn you, my place is...” Crowley took a deep breath as he opened the door. The sleek, museum-like interior seemed such a cold contrast against the mess and chaos of the bookshop. 

“It’s lovely. Thank you for letting me stay.” Aziraphale, as polite as ever, said thankfully.

“Care for a drink, angel?” Crowley offered.

“I think perhaps, as many drinks as you have on hand, considering the occasion.” Aziraphale tried not to stare at the precious items preserved in the demon’s home; items that were equally important to him.

Words had been exchanged between them, declarations of sorts. But not whispered romantically to each other at a table at the Ritz, nor the near perfect moment on their English countryside picnic with Warlock, no, their words were rather frantically screamed in haste on an American airbase. Hardly the way he had wanted any of it to go, but he had his chance to make it right. Now, in the sanctity of his flat, he could do it right.

“Perhaps we ought to propose a toast to Adam Young, the savior of us all.” Aziraphale pulled together to muster some sort of formality.

“To Adam, who is as bad at his job as we are at ours.” Crowley cheered, trying to lighten the mood. Anything to see his angel laugh again.

He watched as Aziraphale drained the entire glass of whiskey in one go; he chuckled as he watched the angel shake his head back and forth as his nose wrinkled. 

“This one of your creations then?” Aziraphale, still producing a sour expression, asked.

“Ireland, sometime after the 14th century. If I’m not mistaken, I believe it was your first official temptation.” Crowley raised his eyebrow as he poured the angel another glass.

“It’s still ghastly, even after all these centuries.” Aziraphale replied, yet did not refuse seconds.

“It would appear that Adam managed to defeat Gabriel and Beelzebub just by telling them to stop. He saved our asses, but that goes without saying.”

“Who’s to say we would have lost that fight? I had my sword, remember?” 

“How long has it been since you’ve used a sword? Or any weapon to that end. We would have been toast in seconds.” Crowley tried to conceal his concern.

“I don’t know. I would have rather enjoyed taking a swing at Gabriel. Pity I didn’t get the chance.” Aziraphale watched him carefully, almost knowingly.

“Trust me, you do not want that angel swinging a sword at you. Besides, I’m glad it didn’t come to that. Well, not yet at least.”

“I imagine they will come for their vengeance. But let us not dwell on that, right now, let’s drink!”

Both were silent for a moment.

“Aziraphale, can I tell you something without it sounding...well sounding impossible?”

“Nothing would seem impossible tonight.”

“She spoke to me.” Crowley began. “At the airbase, just before we...uh...well, she spoke to me.”

“She spoke to me too.” Aziraphale said as he finished the shot of whiskey. “That must have made you feel very upset, hearing God’s voice after everything She did to you.”

“That’s the thing, angel, She was kind, and loving and sorry. She told me that she loved me.”

“Crowley.” The angel’s voice was gentle as he laid his hand upon the demon’s.

“She offered me a choice.” Crowley grew quiet remembering God’s offer; to live free and at peace in the stars with a blissfully unaware Aziraphale. “I didn’t take it.”

“I didn’t either.” Aziraphale said, remembering his own offer.

“Angel, what if, what if all this was the plan all along? What if, all of this was a test?”

“A test? For who? Us?” Aziraphale asked with confusion.

“It was just a thought.” Crowley tried to dismiss the idea.

“I considered that too. A test of loyalty, of faith...of love.”

“To God?”

“No, my dear, to each other.”

They both sat, still side by side, completely unsure what to say next.

“I think we passed.” Crowley said finally. 

“Crowley, do you remember that day? That perfect...”

“Afternoon in the countryside with Warlock. Yes, I remember.”

“I shouldn’t have, that is to say,” Aziraphale stumbled over his words. “I shouldn’t have told you to stop. I wish I hadn’t.”

“No, you were right. It wasn’t safe and it wasn’t the right time.”

“Is it now?”

“Safe?” Crowley asked.

“No. The right time?”

“Oh. Oh! Wait right here!” Crowley shouted as he leapt from the couch, nearly tripping over his own feet as he dashed to a chest he kept in his bedroom; his most private and precious collection of items over the years. One such item nearly fell out of his hands and he dashed back to where the angel sat.

“This is for you.” Crowley yelled a bit too loudly. “I had it made a long time ago and I’ve been waiting for the right moment and here!” He practically shoved the gift into the angel’s hands.

Aziraphale carefully opened the box, revealing a glorious treasure inside, one of gold, delicate and clearly hand made, judging from the careful intricately laid pieces of metal: two golden hearts intertwined together, on top of them, a crown comprised of thin stands of silver woven with thin strands of gold. Set in between the hearts was a magnificent red garnet, faceted and bursting with fire like the sun at dusk.

“Oh Crowley!” Aziraphale marveled with pure delight. “A Luckenbooth! It’s just beautiful!”

“You know what this is?”

“Of course I do! I should have known you’d be the Scottish tradition type. I love it darling!”

“I love you.” Crowley whispered, barely above a prayer.

“What was that, my dear? Just look at the brilliance of this fiery garnet! Just gorgeous.”

“Fire?” Crowley froze. “Angel, didn’t Agnes predict something about fire?”

“Why yes, I have it right here.  Choose your faces wisely, for soon you will be playing with fire.” 

“What if it’s literally fire, as in Hell Fire?” Crowley shuddered.

“Hell’s fire to kill and angel and holy water to kill a demon.” Aziraphale glanced up at the demon, knowing he was already forming a plan. “I know Hell would do it, but would Heaven?”

“Yes. Without question.” Crowley blinked, flinching as he touched his back. 

“What are we to do?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I know we will come up with something. Together.”

“Together.” Aziraphale pinned the gold and silver brooch to his lapel, close to his human heart, a declaration of love as bold as shouting from the rooftops. At least as bold as Aziraphale could manage. 

The rest would come in time, but time, as it seemed, was running remarkably short for them both. They had to focus on what was to come. As for everything else, well, they both prayed that there would be enough time....


	11. 1349

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is a difficult read. Proceed with caution.

Pine prompt

In a small town in Wales, an angel sat quietly beside a bed. The occupant, a girl about 9 years old, frail, weak and not long for this world.

“Brother Ofidus,” the child coughed. “Where is mam?”

“Hush now, little one. Save your strength.” Aziraphale tried his best to comfort the dying child, despite knowing her mother had passed the night prior. He held her hand tightly, pressing a kiss on to her palm.

“Am I going to die like Coeden and Gobaith did?” Her voice trembling as she spoke.

The angel has no words. “Something wonderful waits for you, my little one. You don’t have to be afraid, Heaven will welcome you with open arms, and you will be well again.” His voice breaking.

“What is Heaven like?” She asked with haunted eyes.

“Heaven is a little village in the countryside, surrounded by a lush forest with all manner of woodland creatures. Your mother is there, and your brothers too. Mam calls to you, and you run to her arms. There’s plenty to eat, endless warm summer nights and other children to play with. Heaven is here, my dear, it’s right here. Close your eyes, can you hear your brothers calling you? Can you smell the pine trees in air? Can you feel your mother’s hand in yours? Can you see Heaven, my dear child?” Aziraphale smiled, despite the tears streaming down his face.

“I see it....I see...” She grows quiet. Her body falls limp. Her eyes vacant.

The angel remains at her bedside. Her hand grows cold in his, and yet, he still does not move. His head in his hands as he weeps for another child lost to this terrible curse upon the land. 

Yet his work is not over, he stands and makes his way other besides: a father, a new mother, an engaged young man and his betrothed, a grandmother, a new born babe and so many, many more. 

_So much death_.  He cursed bitterly.  _How many more must you take_?

.....

In a London hospital, a scarlet haired man enters a long corridor; he wore no mask despite the risk of infection. He tries not to linger too long over any of the sick, he tries not to remember their faces, remember their cries as they lie dying. He does not want to remember any of this. He could have chosen to hide away, for this was not his doing and therefore out of his hands, but doing nothing has never been an option, would never be an option.

“This one,” Crowley snapped to a priest. “Move him to the other wing.”

“Why this one, doctor?” The priest questioned.

“Because he is the only one here most likely to survive this nightmare.” Crowley said quietly as the orderlies usher the man away.

That’s one. One more than yesterday.  He sighed to himself.

The sound of a death wail caught his attention, he turned to see a young apprentice, perhaps no older than 17, draw his final breath. 

Too many to count. Too many dead. Why, God, why would you do this to them?

He doesn’t cry. He cannot cry. Not yet. Not until this is over, then he will mourn for what mankind has lost. Mourn for what could have been. 

There is no time to rest, he leaves that wing for another. When that is through, he leaves that hospital for another, and another and another. 

Just help as many as you can.

.....

When they met again, this time in that small Welsh village, they exchange no pleasantries, no witty banter and no raised glasses. They sit together, side by side, so far away from the space they had occupied before, yet closer than ever. When the demon tries to speak, the only sound that comes is a choking sob, a long strangled cry that bursts from him, leaving him heaving and shaking. The angel unfurls his wings, a rare sight to behold, and wraps them around the demon in comfort. 

Wordless, they weep together under a canopy of stars, a storied backdrop against the tall pines, the lush rolling hills and the massive funeral pyre that forever keeps the countless dead.


	12. 1802

Caroling prompt!

In a recently opened bookshop in London’s Soho, an angel and a demon are enjoying an evening of socializing. The sound of singing draws their attention, curious, both go to the door to investigate the source.

“Oh Crowley! A Christmas wassail! How lovely.” Aziraphale gushed over the harmonious voices of the crowd that has gathered in the center of the street.

“They need more practice.” Crowley grumbled.

“Come now! They’re very good.” The angel smiled as he enjoyed the music, lost in their melodies.

Suddenly, a rogue burst of snow falls upon the musical group, sending them falling about and scattering their sheer music, thus ending their song.

“Really dear?” Aziraphale glared.

“Agk! Just because I sent a bit of falling snow on them doesn’t mean they had to stop.” Crowley smirked as Aziraphale shook his head.

“It’s been so long since we’ve had proper carolers in this part. Pity, I love the singing.” Aziraphale seemed to glow in the presence of music. 

“You know, angel, I don’t believe I’ve ever heard you sing before.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale grew quiet. 

“I mean, you’re an angel. You lot are supposed to sing all the time, so why don’t you?”

“Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Sing when you were an angel?”

Crowley scratches his head. “Of course, but those days are over.”

“Why is that?”

“The Fall took a lot from me, and my voice... let’s just say it suffered.”

“I’m so sorry Crowley.”

“S’alright angel. I’ve gotten over it.”

“But still, it must have been devastating for you.”

Crowley winced, for it had, in fact, been devastating. The millennia had done little to ease his sadness. Instead of revealing his own torment, he he simply shrugs. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Which is?”

“Why don’t you sing? I imagine your voice is quite lovely.”

“It’s nothing special really, especially for an angel.”

“Why do you always do that?

“Do what?”

“Put yourself down. Why do you constantly compare yourself to the others?”

“I don’t think that I  always... ” he turned to look at Crowley, who flashed him that look; the one that let Aziraphale know when he was being deliberately evasive. “Perhaps it’s because I know that I am not as good.”

Crowley stared at him. “You’re right. You’re not as good. You’re better. I mean, you’re better in absolutely every way imaginable. You’re kind, you’re giving, you’re understanding, you’re all of that and more.”

“It doesn’t mean that much.”

“It does to me.” Crowley’s tone was serious, there was no manner of sarcasm or chiding. “It means everything to me.”

Aziraphale stood silent for a moment.

“You offered me shelter, companionship, kindness and Hell, even friendship. That’s more than any of my lot has done, more than any of yours would ever do.”

“I suppose that makes me a terrible angel.”

“I wouldn’t say that.”

“Well, considering our Arrangement and consorting is most decidedly against Heaven, as far as angels are concerned, I’m rubbish.”

“Perhaps you are not much of an angel, but it’s fair to say that I’m not much of a demon either.” Crowley finished the rest of his wine, neither knowing what to say next.

“Crowley?” Aziraphale said finally. “I’m glad you’re a terrible demon.”

“I’m even more so that you’re a remarkably awful angel.”

Aziraphale pouts, knowing Crowley will completely submit.

“That’s not a bad thing! I’m simply stating that as for as harsh as Heaven and Hell are, you and I are not quite completely aligned with their policies.” Crowley grinned. “We’re more flexible. On our own so to speak.”

“Our own?” Aziraphale questioned. “Our own what?”

“Our own side of things, as it were.”

“Well. I don’t know about all that.” Aziraphale frowned.

“Ha! You do!” The demon laughed as he reached for his coat, readying himself to leave. Aziraphale shakes his head, but Crowley catches a glimpse of a smile on the angel’s face. 

_Ah, you do_.

“Good night Crowley. Will I see you at Wordsworth’s Christmas feast?” The angel asked hopefully.

“No, I’m meant to spend Christmas in France. Seems I’m meant to tempt a political figure to take control of the country.”

“Happy Christmas then.” Aziraphale said with disappointment.

“Happy Christmas angel.” Crowley replied as he reached for the door handle, but before he did, he gave a pause. “Aziraphale, even if I never hear you, you should sing.”

“Thank you Crowley.” The angel’s smile in genuine, his heart full of adoration.

“Ahg!” The demon scoffed as he takes his leave. He snapped his fingers and the sound of bells signals the arrival of his carriage. Before he step into the sleek, black chassis, he stoops down to pick up a piece of sheet music, blown from the failed carolers. “ God Rest ye Merry Gentlemen”  the title reads. He glances back at the bookshop; the angel is tidying the spent bottles of wine from their evening together, fussing over the placement of a few texts when he stops. He sways gently from side to side, his eyes closed as his lips part. He’s singing, perhaps quietly at first, cautious and tentative. 

Crowley wants to run back, to listen through the doors and walls the sound of a voice he knows must be just glorious. But he waits. By now, he’s exceptionally good at waiting, at being patient. He wants the first time he hears Aziraphale sing to be by his choice, and he knows that it will be worth the wait. Instead, he folds the piece of tattered and damp sheet music and puts it in jacket pocket.  _You’re worth waiting for angel._


	13. 1864

Wrapping Prompt!

1864

_ Another Christmas without Crowley _ _._ He tried desperately to banish that thought from his mind as he busied himself wrapping gifts he had purchased for his circle of friends. Fine paper embossed with depictions of angels; their halos seemingly illuminated by magic, their harps seemingly playing an enchanted tune. Each finely wrapped box trimmed with sprigs of gold tinsel.  _Gold, like Crowley’s eyes_.

_We’ve gone longer than this without speaking, there’s no need to worry._ He swallowed his concern along with several glasses of brandy as he sat alone in his bookshop; attempting to lose himself the novel du jour.

_Perhaps he will be at Master Dickens’s Christmas party._ He mused as he sat at yet another literary get together, his leg bouncing anxiously as he waited for an appropriate moment to ask his inquiry.

“Pray tell, you don’t happen to know if Mr. Crowley will be in attendance this year at the holiday party?” Aziraphale asked finally.

“I don’t think so, seems he’s dropped off from social events. No one has neither seen nor heard from him for ages now.” Mr. Meredith sighed with longing.

“Oh.” Aziraphale said sounding most disappointed.

“You mean, you haven’t heard from him either?” Madame Evans raised an eyebrow.

“Not in a while, but that’s not necessarily unusual.” Aziraphale reasoned, mostly to quell is own fears.

“Well then! That is a surprise. I mean, if he’s not in contact with you, then it’s fair to say he’s gone for good.” Mr. Meredith said with flair. “That Mr. Crowley is most elusive with his feelings. I tried my best to catch his eye, but whenever I thought that perhaps I had, he would make some excuse and leave me standing there alone. I know I’m not the only one who felt that way. Seemed like he was always waiting for someone.”

Aziraphale coughed after taking a sip of wine. “Waiting for someone?” 

“The one he’s really in love with. We all assumed that it was you.” Mr. Meredith stared with keen interest, he studied the angel’s reaction carefully. 

“Me?” Aziraphale gasped.

“You really are oblivious!” Madame Evans laughed. “I mean, Mr. Crowley was only interested in attending parties once he found out you would be there.”

“He always left with you, never with anyone else.” Mr. Meredith chimed.

“The way he fretted over you, doted on you...honestly, you two have never? Not ever?” Madame Evans held nothing back as she questioned.

“No.” The angel muttered, suddenly feeling very unsteady.

“If he’s abandoned his pursuit of you, then love truly is dead.” Mr. Meredith flung his hands into the air dramatically.

“He doesn’t...I mean, he can’t possibly. I mean, me?” The room began to feel smaller, as he spoke.

Both writers looked at him, their faces softened and Madame Evans placed her hand a top the angel’s.

“Who knows what is really in a man’s heart. But my dear, this is certain, Mr. Crowley loves you.” Madame Evans cooed.

He left the gathering, still stunned by what his friends had to confessed to him.

_Crowley doesn’t love me. He cannot love anything, he’s a demon, and demons absolutely do not love. Right?_

He spent that Christmas standing alone among a crowd of partygoers.  _Cannot possibly be love._ He thought as he swirled his glass of whiskey in the corner of the room.

He spent the following Christmas at the Vatican in Rome, celebrating with The Pope and a litany of Catholic faithful.  _Crowley only fretted because he needed something from me, he is a demon and demons are inherited evil. Aren’t they?_

He spent many, many Christmases in various places with various people, but he spent all them without Crowley. Each passing year, he felt the demon’s absence more and more. 79 years had passed since their last meeting in St. James’s Park. 79 years since he called their friendship “fraternizing” and not a day when by where he didn’t regret his choice of words. 79 Christmases alone. Each of them lonely.  _He cannot love me._

_He cannot love me_

_He does not love me_

Then one evening, in a church in London, they reunite. The anger has vanished, the hurt has dimmed but the light, the light glows with an electric pulse that charges through both celestial beings. A spark that ignites with a selfless miracle; an act of kindness that could only mean one thing and one thing only.

_ He does love me _

_And I love him_


	14. 1980

Eggnog Prompt

Crowley had grown his hair long again, not as long as it had been in the past, but long enough where it swept his shoulders when he turned his head and shook when he laughed; strands of vibrant crimson that fluttered like feathers in the wind as he walked down the street. 

Aziraphale had always found Crowley’s hair lovely, but never more beautiful than how the long locks framed his angles of face. So when that telltale flash of red caught his eye as it entered the bookshop, he couldn’t help but smile.

“Hello angel! Closing early again today?” Crowley flashed a devilish grin as he locked the doors behind him with a snap.

“Suppose I am now.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes. “You’ve changed your hair again.”

“You don’t like it?” 

“I didn’t say that! I rather like your hair long, it was that ridiculous mustache that was just ghastly. Made you look like one of those..” Aziraphale fumbled for words. “Patrons of that shop next door.”

“Yes, well at least I change my appearance to keep up with the times. Think I would discorporate on sight if you were to grow out your hair.”

“What’s wrong with the way my hair is now? Too much fuss for me to change it.”

“Too much  fuss for you?” Crowley laughed. “You’re the fussiest being that has ever existed. Anyway, I brought you an early Christmas present. How do you feel about some spiced rum?” The demon didn’t wait for a response before opening the bottle and grabbing 2 cups from the sitting table in the center of the shop.

“That will pair well with the eggnog I purchased from the market. Been waiting for an occasion to drink it.”

“Make mine with more rum than nog. Not a fan of that frothy eggy mess.”

“Would it help if I added more cinnamon, my dear?”

“Sounds delicious angel.” Crowley snapped his fingers and the sounds of the latest New Wave band filled the space.

“You know full well that I don’t care for that bebop.” Aziraphale snapped his fingers and  Tchaikovsky’s score to The Nutcracker replaced the modern music.

“Feeling sentimental?” Crowley turned away quickly, blushing with the memory of the last time they watched the ballet together.

“I am glad you’re here though, there is a small matter I’ve been meaning to discuss with you.”  Aziraphale said as he passed the demon his drink. 

“Oh?” 

“Seems I’m meant to go to Greece soon and persuade them to join this new European group thingy. Seeing how my last go round in Greece ended in, well...”

“A huge fire and the downfall of an emperor?”

“Oh come now! That wasn’t all my fault. I mean, how was I to know that telling Nero to build a house of God would lead to him setting damn near everything on fire.”

“It does when I told him to build a house of gold instead.” Crowley muttered under his breath.

“I was hoping you might, you know.” Aziraphale pouted, his eyes widened as he pursed his lips; knowing full well that Crowley would never say no to him.

“Alright. I’ll do this one for you. But you owe me.”

“Oh thank you.” The angel smiled warmly, his eyes glancing at the demon. 

“Bah! Just pour me another glass of rum, angel.”

They continued to drink, when something outside caught their attention. Some manner of fight had broken out in the street, and a group of boys were kicking and punching a young man.

“Oy! That’s enough!” Crowley hollered from the bookshop’s doorway.

“Piss off!” One of the younger boys shouted back.

Crowley straighten his back as he took a step on to the sidewalk. Aziraphale grabbed his shoulder, holding him back.

“I say, leave that man alone.” Aziraphale called to them, and the boys stopped.

There were 3 of them; the elder stood up and shouted. “Next time, I’m coming for you, you fat fucking pansy!” His dark eyes filled with a hateful malice, despite being no older than 15, there was already a darkness surrounding his soul. A darkness that gave Crowley, demon of Hell, cause to fear. A shudder ran down his spine as he locked eyes with the boy.

_Don’t ever threaten my angel, it will be the last thing you do_.

Aziraphale looked at Crowley with confusion. “Fat? Pansy?” But he wasn’t concerned with the kids, his only concern was for the battered man lying in the street. Aziraphale ran to him, and helped him up slowly, he was bleeding from a wound to his head. Aziraphale snapped his fingers, and the young man was healed, no longer unsteady on his feet and no longer bleeding. “There, there, no real damage. You hurry home now.” The angel said softly as the man ran away.

“What do you suppose that was all about?” Aziraphale asked with genuine curiosity.

“Evil lurks in this world, angel. Those boys are trouble. Best watch yourself, he did just threaten you.”

“Lots of people have threatened me, Crowley. That never works out well them.” Aziraphale chided, but the demon was not swayed from his concern.

“I mean it, I don’t like how those kids looked at you. Promise me you will be careful.” Crowley pleaded. 

Something in Crowley’s voice told him that the demon was frightened, an emotion that Crowley rarely ever showed. 

“I’ll make sure I keep my eyes open, dear.” He soothed. “Crowley, are you alright?”

“I don’t want anything to happen to you.” Crowley whispered, surprised by his own reaction to the threat.

Aziraphale stood up and walked over to the demon, he carefully removed his glasses. “Crowley, look at me. I will be fine. No kids are going to hurt me, believe me, I can handle myself.”

Crowley said nothing, he continued to stare into the angel’s eyes; soft, pale blue eyes filled with light. Aziraphale did something most unexpected, he wrapped his arms around him, pulling him close, against his body and holding him tightly. The angel rested his head on his shoulder, and he allowed himself to relax; to return the embrace, to revel in the soft curves of the angel’s stomach and breathe in his scent. This was the closest they had ever been, standing together in a warm embrace.

Just as quickly as it began, it was over. Aziraphale pulled away first, his fingers fidgeted nervously as he waited for the demon to say something- anything.

Neither had words, the swell of the music filled the room; the Grande Pas de Deux began and both released a sigh of delight. 

“Do you remember the night we went to this ballet?” Aziraphale asked quietly.

“Yes.” Crowley replied. 

“It was a beautiful night. Wasn’t it?”

“It was, angel. It was.” 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale began to speak, what he wanted to ask was on the tip of his tongue; the words were so close to spilling out of him, and he knew with certainty that all he needed to do was ask, and the demon would accept.  _What harm could one dance do_?  He thought to himself. As soon as the thought entered his mind, the grip of fear took root. Harm would most certainly happen, harm would come to Crowley, and he simply could not allow that to happen.

“Yes, angel?” 

“Care for another drink?” He sighed, noting how the demon’s shoulders fell a bit.

“Of course.”

They sat in silence, neither able to say what they truly wanted, neither knowing how far to push the issue and neither wanting to cause the other harm. 

“I suppose I’m feeling sentimental tonight too.” Crowley said as he set his drink down on the table. “Perhaps it’s the alcohol.”

“You could stay, if you’d like. Rest here, sleep off the rum and leave in the morning.” Aziraphale offered before he considered the consequences.

Crowley wanted to accept, but he knew better. They had already gotten closer than they had ever been before, that alone filled him with unbridled joy and crippling fear. “I’m afraid I can’t. Lots of work to do tomorrow. Temptations and such. Plus, I’ll have to make a trip to Greece, and that’s always nice this time of year.”

Aziraphale felt both relieved and disappointed. “Very well, but before you go, I have a little something for you.” The angel headed to his desk and produced a brightly wrapped box. “It’s not much, but....”

“Aziraphale, I told you not to doubt yourself.” Crowley smiled as he unwrapped the gift: a golden hair clip in the form of a snake, with a ruby for an eye. 

“It was a pin, but I asked the jeweler to make it so you can wear it in your hair, seeing how it’s long again, seems I made the right choice.” Aziraphale said sweetly.

“I love it.” Crowley was heartfelt in his reply. “Truly, I do.” 

“Mind how you go, my dear.” Aziraphale handed him his coat, trying not to show that he was reluctant to see the demon leave.

“Happy Christmas Aziraphale.”

“Happy Christmas Crowley.”

“And angel, please be careful.” Crowley turned and walked towards the Bentley. He sat in the car and attempted to process everything that had transpired that evening.  _A threat, a hug, an offer and a gift._ He could scarcely start the car due to his trembling hands.  _He held me. Closer than we have ever been. He reached for me, and he held me._

He could hardly contain himself as he made his way home. The pallid light of his flat was a stark contrast against the illuminating glow of the bookshop. Crowley made his way to his bedroom and opened the chest where he kept his greatest treasures; he looked at all the times inside, and smiled. He held the serpent hair pin to his lips and pressed a kiss against the golden gift.  _Someday, I will share all of this with you._ He says to himself.  That day is coming soon. He pins the serpent clip into his hair and admirers it in the mirror.  _Soon, my love, soon._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This piece is a prelude to the events in this work. Proceed with caution, there is hateful language and violence 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/21328411


	15. The Very First Christmas

Laughter prompt!

Away in a manger, a virgin mother is struggling through the stages of labor. Beside her stands her doting husband, a man who means well but is ultimately clueless in the knowledge of child birth. An angel is also in attendance, he has just finished arguing with the inn keeper’s son about the accommodations for the young couple when he finally gives up and walks away.

“Humans.” Aziraphale sighed with contempt.

“What are we to do? She cannot have the baby in here!” A frantic Joseph cried. “The inn keeper said the town’s only midwife was called away not two days ago. What are we to do?”

“Oh. Oh!” Aziraphale stood in stunned silence as the gravity of the situation finally registered.  Gabriel gave me strict orders, no miracles and no divine assistance of any kind. “Well, I mean, I suppose I can lend...”

“I heard you were in urgent need of midwife.” A familiar voice rang in his ears, he turned to see the demon known as Crawley standing just to his left.

Crawley’s long red hair fell in a braid down her back; red flowers bloomed in between the plaits. She wore a long, black gown, standard fashion for the time, trimmed at the hem and neck line in gold. Her eyes, a brilliant citrine in the moon light, and Aziraphale could not help but stare.

“What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here! This is no business for...for a demon!” The angel tried his best to appear disgruntled.

“Tell me, Aziraphale, have you ever delivered a baby?” Crawley asked pointedly.

“Well no.”

“How exactly did you expect this child to come into the world?” The demon chided.

“I mean, I assumed Mary would just, you know...have the baby.” Aziraphale said clearly flustered.

“I’ve spent the last decade living as a human female, and believe me, I’ve learned more in these last 10 years than I have since the beginning. Women are the real force of humanity.”

“What are you going to do?” Aziraphale asked with trepidation. “Gabriel said no miracles.”

“I’m going to help that poor, scared young woman deliver a baby the old fashioned way. I’ve served as a midwife many times now, and I haven’t lost a single mother or babe. Now stand aside and let me work.” She pushed past the angel and addressed Mary directly. 

“Shhh now, it will be alright. Come now, let me have a look at how far long you are.” Crawley did her best to soothe a very frightened Mary. “You there, husband! Go find me some clean muslin to secure the babe.”

Crawley poured from a jar of oil and rubbed her hands together. “Are you ready, my dear? Let us have this baby!” She held tight to Mary’s hand as she pushed the angel from the barn.

Aziraphale stood just outside, wringing his hands in worry. What if he was making a huge mistake in permitting the demon to be in attendance. What if Mary dies or worse, the baby?  _No, Crawley loves children and would never harm one. Even the Christ child_. He tried to remain calm despite the steady arc of Mary’s cries in the throes of labor.

Suddenly, the screaming stopped and all was silent. He held his breath. The wail of a newborn babe filled the air, and Aziraphale’s heart filled with relief and joy. 

Crawley emerged from the barn, her braids falling down, her black dress hid the stain of blood and a look of relief filled her face as she locked eyes with the angel. “He’s perfect.” She said with a smile. “Both are well.” 

Aziraphale peeked inside and beheld a truly divine moment; a new mother tending to her babe. The infant suckled at her breast, as Mary lovingly stroked his hair. 

“It was an difficult birth.” Crawley confessed. “The least they could have done was make it easy for her sake. Poor girl.”

“You were brilliant.” Aziraphale’s words were sincere as he admired the statuesque figure beside him.

“Well, someone had to be of some help around here.” Crawley scoffed.

“I’m meant to deliver some speech to the people. Seems I’m to announce the birth of the Son of God.” 

“Out with it then, Mary needs her rest.” 

Aziraphale reluctantly opened his wings and took to the roof of the manger to deliver his message.

“I say, good people! Gather close and hear my words.” Aziraphale began. “Oh, the state of this roof is dreadful, feels like I’m going to fall right through.” He fussed, trying to steady himself as citizens began to gather around the manger. “I am hear to tell you that the child of the Lord has been born, and he will bring unto to you goodness and light and oh!” The angel’s foot went through the thin straw. 

“What did he say?” A man in the crowd asked aloud.

“Something about light, I think.” Another man responded.

“Alright, show’s over.” Crawley shooed. “Everyone go home.” The crowd dispersed, leaving the angel and demon remaining. 

“I fear that was a complete disaster.” Aziraphale fretted as he wretched his foot from the thatching and descended with little fanfare.

“Not at all! I mean, I especially enjoyed the part where you nearly fell, but otherwise, it was lovely delivery.”

“If I’d eaten anymore at dinner, I probably would have gone straight through!” Aziraphale patted his stomach.

Crawley began to laugh; a little giggle at first that rapidly overtook her until the demon was clutching her sides and gasping for air. Aziraphale began to laugh too, the natural ease they had with each other, the genuine relief he felt when she appeared and for a moment, he forgot that they were inherent enemies and not old friends. This tender moment between them was a final release of the tension that had filled the night. 

“How did you know that the Christ child would be born on this night?” Aziraphale asked after composing himself.

“Just got lucky, I suppose.” Crawley grinned as she brushed the loose strands of hair behind her face.

“Well, I suppose lucky for all us then.” Aziraphale glanced at the demon and smiled. “I should say my goodbyes to Mary. I’m meant to guide some visitors here, and I’m not entirely sure where they are.” Aziraphale confessed. 

“I should be off too. Temptations to be given and all.” The demon paused as she looked at the small baby nestled in his mother’s arms. “He will grow up and change the world.”

“He will change everything.” Aziraphale said quietly as they stood together and watched the new family. “Will I see you again soon?”

“If you’re lucky.” Crawley replied as she made her way into the darkness. 

Aziraphale watched her go, trying to ignore the feeling of disappointment at her departure. He walked into the manger one last time, and said his farewell and gave one final blessing. As he turned to leave, he spotted a bright red flower lying on the manger floor. He picked it up and admired it before tucking it behind his ear. A strange feeling came over him as he left the humble manger, a feeling that he hoped was lucky.


	16. 1948

Ice Storm

At a lavish party that borderlines hedonistic, Aziraphale, not entirely oblivious to what is going on in the private salon rooms, is enjoying the conversations and refreshments. A strikingly tall gentleman with a cascade of auburn hair walks through the door, and immediately the whispers begin. The host, a renowned author, fawns all over himself as he introduces his newest obsession and inspiration for all his latest work. 

“Anthony, my dark crow! Oh darling!” Mr. Forster swooned. “You have the most spectacular jaw line! All the better for...” He was interrupted by a rather irritated celestial being.

“What are you doing here?” Aziraphale asked boldly.

“I was invited, Angel.” Crowley pursed his lips as he shook off the fresh layer of snow that had accumulated on his jacket. “But I think the more important question is what are you doing here?” He raised his eyebrow at his heavenly counterpart.

“I was...also invited.” Aziraphale said, trying to sound formidable and important.

“So you two know each other then?” Mr. Forster cooed. “Oh! What are the odds? Come now, my lovely, let us mingle.” He linked his arm into Crowley’s and lead him away, leaving Aziraphale standing utterly alone. 

After sometime, and more than a few drinks later, he spied Crowley in the library, staring out the large window, standing by himself. Put out by the display earlier, Aziraphale stormed out of the party to confront the demon.

“The snow is really coming down, looks as if it’s beginning to ice over.” Crowley attempted to make conversation, to which Aziraphale was having none of it.

“I hope you enjoyed your fraternizing!” Aziraphale sputtered, spilling his drink in the process. “I mean, honestly!”

“Aziraphale, your drunk. Perhaps you should go home.” Crowley said with genuine concern.

“Oh, so I should go home and leave you here do...God knows what with God knows who...whom...oh whatever, it doesn’t matter! You’re making a spectacle out of yourself.”

“What are you talking about angel? You’re the one who gets drunk at a sex party. I’m here by myself, in case you didn’t notice.”

“Well you left with HIM, and...” his voice begins to trail off. “And what choice did I have but to drink too much? I mean, you just so happen to be his new muse? You don’t even like contemporary writing.”

“I like contemporary writing because you like contemporary writing, you idiot. You told me that I should get into reading more, so I thought I would tempt some writers with lust. The sexy bits are more interesting to read anyway.”

“So that’s it then? You show up and flaunt your relationship!” Aziraphale sputtered, trying not to stare at how the light illuminated the demon’s fiery mane. 

“Are you jealous that I tempted your lover away from you?” Crowley fired angrily.

“I’m not jealous and he’s not my lover..” Aziraphale’s cheeks grew flush. “And I hate that you show up here and leave me by myself to go...well to go to bed with him!” Tears filled his eyes, and he tried so desperately to conceal them.

“Aziraphale, there is nothing going between me and him. I mean, he makes advances, but I have no interest or desire. I’m here because I heard you would be, that’s all.”

“So you’re not having intimate relations with him?” Aziraphale asked hopefully.

“No! Angel, I don’t have intimate relations with anyone. It’s not my scene really.” Crowley scoffed, still attempting to remain collected.

“You don’t?” The cherub asked softly. “Have you ever?”

Crowley shook his head. “No. Not once. Happy now?”

Aziraphale fell silent, the awkward pause between them shifted. 

“It’s alright angel,” Crowley sighed as he ran his hands through his long hair. “You’re drunk and I’ll take you home.”

“Leaving so soon, my dark crow?” Mr. Forster slurred, as he tried to wrap his arms around Crowley’s waist. 

“Yes, and we’re leaving, together.” Aziraphale reached out and took the demon’s arm, and it was gladly accepted. “Thank you for the brilliant party, but it is time to say goodnight.”

“My little dove and dark crow? Leaving so soon and together? Well, what I wouldn’t give to tag along. I promise, I will play nice.” The host licked his lips longingly.

“Sorry, I don’t share.” Aziraphale chided, as he leaned into Crowley’s arm for support.

“You don’t?” Crowley smirked, the angel just shook his head.

“Oh shut it.”

“From the looks of that ice, neither of you are going anywhere tonight.” Mr. Forster purred as he looked outside, noting the heavy, slick layer of glistening ice that had frozen to every surface. “But don’t you worry, my lovelies, I can accommodate you both for the night.”

Crowley edged closer to the angel, still holding his hand tightly. “Very well, I trust we will not be disturbed.”

“Oh fine! Be no fun then!” Mr. Forster grumbled as he showed the pair to a bedchamber away from the wing of the manner where the party was still in full swing.

“Here you go, my lovelies. Have fun.” Their host said with a wink as he opened the door.

“We will.” Crowley hissed and with a snap, the door slammed behind them. They stood in silence for a moment. “You can miracle yourself home, if you’d rather not stay.” 

“I’m not leaving you here alone.” The angel said meekly, slowly realizing that he was still gripping the demon’s arm. He released it and watched as Crowley slinked around the room.

The electric lights began to flicker, dimming until they went out completely. “Foolish modern decadence.” Crowley cursed under his breath, with a snap of his fingers, the room is illuminated with the soft glow of candles. “Still drunk, angel?” The demon peered over his glasses.

“I’m not drunk, I’m tip-top!” Aziraphale announced, yet he was, in fact, still very intoxicated.

“Might as well get some rest. Go on, you take the bed. I’ll take...” The demon began.

“No no! It’s alright! You’re the one who sleeps. I’m more than fine just on the chair.”

“You don’t sleep?” Crowley asked as he snapped his fingers, his clothing had changed to fine silk pajamas, black with red trim, a small golden snake embroidered just to the right of his heart. 

“It’s not that I don’t, I haven’t much use for it- I use that time to read.” The angel said as he cast his eye downward.

“Big sleep fan, me.” Crowley yawned and stretched out his arms, revealing his stomach to anyone who might have been stealing a peek. “You should try it.”

“Fair enough.” Aziraphale pulled his fingers down and was standing in a long, white gown complete with stocking cap. 

Crowley rolled his eyes, yet was secretly delighted. “This bed is massive and there’s no sense trying to sleep in that...” He said as he gestured to the chair.

“Very well. But no funny business.” Aziraphale bit his lip.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Crowley shuttered.

Aziraphale made his way, in a most wobbly manner, towards the opposite end of the bed and climbed in, he shuffled under the sheets and laid helps head upon the pillows, he turned his body away from the demon. “Goodnight Crowley.” He said quietly.

“Night angel.” The demon answered.

“You know I haven’t either.” Aziraphale confessed softly. “I haven’t known anyone intimately before.”

“Not even that writer pal of yours? That wild fellow?” 

“No. Although, many have tried, but,” he grew quiet

“What is it, angel?”

“It’s a sin, isn’t it? I mean, Heaven says that fornicating is going against God.”

“I don’t think it’s a sin. Seems more like an act of love than an act of evil. I don’t see what the big deal is.” Crowley muttered as he lay on his back.

“So, you would, I mean, hypothetically speaking, you would be intimate.”

“I could have countless times. It’s not the act itself, but it’s finding the right partner that has been the sticking point.”

“Oh.” Aziraphale felt his heart beat quicken. “Do you think you will ever find them? The right partner I mean.”

“Who’s to say I haven’t already. Perhaps it’s just not the right time.” Crowley murmured.

“Do you think it will ever be the right time?” The angel asked, his voice nearly breaking.

“I hope so. I’d very much like for that day to come, someday that is.”

“So would I.” Aziraphale whispered to himself. “So would I.” Perhaps it was the alcohol that was causing the room to spin, or perhaps it was something else entirely.

In the morning, the angel opened his eyes and caught a glimpse of the sunlight as it danced across the demon’s face. He fought to resist the urge to touch his hair, sweep the errant strand of copper that fell across his cheek.

As if sensing the angel was awake, Crowley opened his eyes and smiled. “Morning angel.” He turned and reached for his glasses. “Suppose the ice is melted enough for us to make our way home.” The demon stood up, and gave one last stretch. In an instant, he was impeccably dressed and remarkably styled. “You ready, or would you prefer to hang about?”

Not to be outdone, Aziraphale miracled his own posh outfit, complete with coiffed curls. “Ready when you are, my dear.” 

Crowley held out his arm, gesturing the angel to proceed through the opened door. Before he left the room, he took a candle from the dresser and slipped it into his jacket pocket.

Their ride home was filled with witty banter and laughter as they made their way to London. The Bentley was parked out in front of the bookshop, as it had been more than a few times this century. 

“Lovey evening, angel.” Crowley grinned.

“Oh! Come now.” Aziraphale said coyly, knowing that there had been a change in the space between them. He waved to the demon and slipped into his shop. He sighed as he removed his sleeping cap from inside his coat; holding it close to his chest. He smiled to himself.  _Someday indeed_.


	17. 1976

Ornament prompt!

In an antiquated bookshop in London Soho, an angel finishes decorating a massive Christmas tree; it is trimmed with garland of gold and lights of white, with many shiny ornaments depicting glorious angels all heralding the birth of Christ.

“So many pretty angels, looking all perfect with their wings and halos.” Crowley grumbled as he patted an ornament that looked remarkably like Michael.

“Angels are festive!” Aziraphale sputtered back.

“Needs more demonic influence, if you ask me.” Crowley quipped as he debated snapping the head off an ornament that strongly resembled Gabriel.

“It’s not like humans celebrate demons, Crowley.”

“Of course, who would want to put a creature of Hell on their Christmas tree?” Crowley said coolly.

“You cannot fault the humans, I mean, your kind is fallen and not something humans want to associate with.”

“Yes, angel. I’m aware. Fallen angel, not worthy of any respect what so ever.”

“Honestly, I don’t know what you expect. Humans believe they demons are evil, and no one wants anything evil...”

“No one wants anything evil what? Go on, finish what you were going to say.” Crowley snapped angrily.

“They don’t want anything evil around them.”

“I see. Who would want evil around when they can surround themselves with statues of angels that don’t give a shit about them.”

“Crowley, that’s not what I meant.”

“No no! I understand completely. Angels are good, demons are bad. Was that what you were trying to say?”

“Please don’t be upset.” Aziraphale tried his best to soothe.

“Why would I be upset? You’re just speaking the truth, aren’t you?” Crowley said bitterly.

“Don’t go! I didn’t mean you!”

“Well, I am a demon and I am fallen. Don’t worry, angel, I won’t pollute your home with my evil ways any longer.” Crowley yelled as he slammed the door, leaving Aziraphale completely alone.

He considered closing the bookshop, shutting down for the day, when the door opened and an elderly woman walked into the shop.

“I’m afraid I was preparing to close for the afternoon, if you could come back another time.” The angel, still clearly flustered, began.

“Please, if you don’t mind, I would very much so like to sell this book. You see, it’s been in my family a very long time, and none of my grandchildren are interested in it, so I thought before I throw it away, I would see if there were any takers.”

“An old book?” Aziraphale’s interest peeked. 

“I can see that you’re getting ready to close, so I’ll just be off then.”

“Wait!” Aziraphale called. “I suppose I could take a look.”

“A look is going to cost you! No one outside of my family has laid a hand on this book, so if you’re interested.” The old woman wiggled the book a bit in front of Aziraphale.

“Very well, name your price.”

“Such a priceless heirloom cannot be summed up so easily...Oh! I see you have an antique silver tea set! You wouldn’t happen to have a milk pot with the cover would you? Mine went missing quite some time ago, and I haven’t been able to locate a suitable replacement.”

“I do have the milk pot, but I’m not certain I’d be willing to trade it for an unknown book. If I could perhaps...” Aziraphale said as he attempted to garner a glimpse.

“No. The milk pot for the book. One time offer.”

Aziraphale winced as he looked at his silver tea set, he would hate to part with such an ornate piece, but the book did appear to be quite old. “Alright, you have a deal.”

“Lovely!” The old woman grinned as she plunked the book into Aziraphale’s hands before plundering his silver service. 

He looked down at the cover, the writing was scarcely legible; there were well-worn symbols embossed into the leather.  _Strange_. He thought as he lifted the cover. 

The writing was indeed ancient- no language ever spoken by humans, the language of the Seraphim, the language of angels.

“Where did you say you got this...” Aziraphale glanced up to see that he was once again, utterly alone in his shop. 

He sat down at his desk and carefully opened the book; there were a great many pages loose that someone had seemingly shoved them inside haphazardly.  It appears to be a recollection of the creation of angels. He scoured the pages with great interest, atop each page, a name, a rank and a description of the angel and their blessings.

_ Gabriel, Archangel  _

_ A mighty winged creature with eyes of violet, bands of gold flows through his throat, for he is the Word of God.  _

A stunning painting of a furious and righteous Gabriel holding a sword lit up the page, sending a shudder down his spine.

_Let’s see, Michael ...Uriel...Raziel...Jophiel... __Raphael... Camael.._. He muttered to himself as he flipped their pages, quietly admiring their Heavenly attributes and stunning images. 

A torn slip of paper fell upon the floor, garnering his attention:

_Jedbriel, Archangel_

_Most fair of all Heavenly creations...._

_eyes of gold and hair of flame. All ...._

_rejoices over his creations..._

_of stars that rain through the cosmos a_ nd ...

“Jedbriel? I haven’t heard this name before.” Aziraphale pondered as he held the slip of paper in his hand. “Archangel? That can’t be right.” 

He continued to search the book, eventually coming to his own name; he blushed at the flattering drawing of him holding his flaming sword. He turned the page and what he saw caused his heart to skip a beat.

_Crowley_? 

His rendering was unmistakable; auburn hair that fell past his waist, flowing down in a fiery wave. His golden eyes, warm and filled with light, seemed to look straight through to his soul. Wings of white illuminated by the radiance of starlight that surrounded him.

“ _Oh Crowley!”_ He sighed with adoration. He glanced up at the top of the page, looking for his name- the name that God herself had given to him, but the page was torn, many words were missing, but a few remained...

... _with..._

_...Heaven..._

_...galaxies..._

_...beloved child of God._

_ Curious _ _._ He pulled the slip of torn paper and placed it over where the piece was missing; to his surprise, the piece fit seamlessly.

_Crowley? It cannot be. Even if it were, that would make 8 archangels, and that’s not possible. We were told there are 7, always 7. This doesn’t make sense. His given name is Jedbriel? I don’t understand._

He poured over the book all that night, searching for clues, searching for anything that might give him a better understanding of who this mysterious named archangel was and why there was no other information to be found anywhere.

_Nothing. How can he not exist at all in any other text? None of this makes sense._ He poured himself another cup of hot chocolate as he continued to reason.  But Crowley would have told me, it would have come up by now. 

He paused and looked up at his brilliantly adorned Christmas tree, stunning angles heralding the arrival of Christ; trumpets and harps, halos and magnificent wings of white. His breath caught- these beautiful ornaments created by mankind to depict the glory of Heaven. If the information in the book was to be believed, then Heaven erased one of their own from existence- erased Crowley. Creator of stars and fairest of all Her creations. How painful it must be for the demon to look upon these ornaments and see nothing but pain, rejection and erasure. 

_Oh Crowley, I am so sorry._

Days pass, and another Christmas Eve arrives with little fanfare. Aziraphale continued to pour through his scrolls, texts, first edition unrevised Bibles and any religious works he has at his disposal. He finds nothing.

Night brings the moon and the soft glow of distant stars. The cold winter wind snaps him from his focus, and he turns to see a demon has, in fact, returned to his shop.

“Picked you up a little something for your tree.” Crowley announces as he sauntered in, finely wrapped box in hand.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale cooed with delight. “Listen, about the other day, I’m...”

“It’s nothing, angel. Water under the bridge.” Crowley dismissed. “Doing a little light reading?” He asked as he glanced around, noting that nearly every surface was covered with literature.

“Oh, just a bit of research.” Aziraphale said as he hid the book under a stack of papers. 

“Anything important?” The demon asked as he made his way towards where the angel was standing.

“Important? Just something that peeks my curiosity.” Aziraphale glanced up, trying to erase the image of Crowley in his true angelic form from his mind. 

“Just stopped in to give you this, then I’m off to a party. Big temptation to accomplish and then I’m leaving London for a bit. Meant to go to Italy.” Crowley stopped before him, gift in hand. “Go on, open it.”

Aziraphale accepted the package, and removed the wrapping; inside was a monstrous little figure with two great horns and bright red eyes. A look of confusion fell over his face.

“It’s Krampus! He’s a demon that comes for naughty children at Christmas Time. Anyway, he’s better than all your “holier than thou” angels and I thought this place could use a little more...”

“Crowley, I love it.” He held the glass ornamentin his hands. “I know exactly where to put him.” He walked over to the tree and placed him on a branch at the top. 

“Anyway, Happy Christmas angel.” Crowley shrugged as he turned to leave.

“Wait!” Aziraphale yelled a bit too loudly. “I have something for you too. He grabbed a gold trimmed package from his desk drawer.

“Tartan? Really?” Crowley moaned as he produced a printed scarf. “I mean, you don’t expect me to actually wear this, do you?”

“It’s stylish and besides, it will keep you warm. I know how you hate this weather.” Aziraphale teased.

“Goodnight angel.” Crowley waved as he sauntered towards the door. Aziraphale watched him leave, watched as his hair, much shorter, yet still long enough to flutter in the wind. Gone were his wings of white, his golden markings and his Heavenly name, yet in Aziraphale’s eyes, he was still the fairest of all Her creations. 


	18. 2013 (roughly 6 years before the End of the World)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is basically a set up chapter for what comes next

Cookies

Part 1:

On a lavish and sprawling official London residence, a boy of about 5 sits beside his attentive Nanny. This small boy has known several nannies in the past, but none have been like this one; he enjoys her songs and stories, he finds comfort in her arms and even once, he swore she had eyes that glowed in the dark. When Nanny was around, he felt warm and loved. When Nanny was around, he felt special.

“Nanny,” Young Warlock began. “Mama says we’re going to spend a few days at our house in the country. She says her and Daddy have in-por-tent stuff to do while we are there, so I’ll get to be with you.”

“Isn’t that nice dear. A proper Holiday.”

“Since we will be in the country, can we go for a picnic? My last Nanny used to have picnics with me on the lawn, but that was a long time ago.”

The demon nearly lurched forward out of her chair. “Of course we can, my darling. But you know who would really enjoy coming along?”

“Who Nanny? Who?”

“Brother Francis. Why, I’m sure the garden at the country estate needs tending, and if you asked, I’m certain your mother would agree.” Nanny brushed back a strand of hair from the little boy’s eyes. “Come now, let us prepare for our adventure.”

The manner staff included a chef, several assistants to both Mr. and Mrs. Downing, a formal butler, three housekeepers, a multitude of Secret Service agents and one gardener. While it would seem that a recently hired Nanny would be outranked by all save for one, most of the help lived in fear of her. In all fairness, Nanny was an imposing figure; standing nearly 6’3” with her old fashioned lace up boots, a swathe of thick, red hair pinned back just so and an eye condition that required her to wear dark glasses at all points in time. Even Mr. Downing, on the rare occasions he was at home, found himself tip toeing around his son’s new nanny. So when it came time to assemble the entourage of Secret Service agents and house staff to travel to Pembrokeshire, Nanny was the one who gave the orders and assignments. 

The car ride was long, the multitude of official government vehicles seemed ridiculous, yet the slew of violence towards Americans abroad had steadily increased over the years. Nanny did not like being a passenger in a car she was not operating. To make matters worse, young Warlock did not travel well, and spent the majority of the trip with his head in her lap. When they finally arrived, the countryside was different from how he remembered it. A shudder ran through him, as he recalled the last time he was in Wales.

“Come on Nanny! Let’s get ready to go on our picnic!” Warlock pleaded. 

“We’ve only just arrived, my dear. Tomorrow will be a better day, I promise.” Nanny soothed. “In the meantime, why don’t we find some little treats we can bring with us.”

“We can ask Chef Claude to make some cookies with pink icing! Those are my favorite.”

“Cookies?” The demon asked. “Don’t you mean biscuits?”

“Nanny, Mama says that we should do as the Americans do, and they call them cookies!” Warlock sighed with exaggeration. “Do you think Chef Claude will make them?”

“He’d better, if he knows what’s good for him. We should ask him to prepare a full lunch also, oysters, French bread with brioche, savory stuffed crepes, figs and almonds, grapes and cranberries, and of course, your cookies.” Nanny listed.  _Such a fine lunch for Aziraphale._

“Nanny, I’m so excited.” The boy jumped up and down with glee.

“Let me tell you a little secret, I’m excited too. I’ve never been on a picnic before, this will be my first.” Nanny replied.

“And you get to spend it with me and Brother Francis! I hope he’s excited too.”

“Of course he is! I think he’s been waiting a very long time for this too, so it will be extra special.” She purred. “Now, my dark prince, time for you to get some rest. We have a big day tomorrow.” 

“Nanny?” Warlock said with wide eyes. “Can you sing me a lullaby?”

“Of course darling.” She sang for the boy, while her voice was a great deal more raspy and harsh than it had been long, long ago, the boy did not seem to mind. For the first time since those days, she actually enjoyed singing.

Morning came, and the sunlight poured though the open windows, welcoming the new day. Warlock leapt from his bed and ran out into the parlor. He looked around for Nanny, and finally spied her outside, talking to Brother Francis in the garden. 

Warlock watched them with fascination; there was something so comforting about Brother Francis’s presence, he made the boy feel safe in an unsafe world. The funny little man seemed to be brimming with love, and Warlock greatly enjoyed their time together.

“There you are Young Master Warlock! Seems today is a fine day for our little picnic!” Brother Francis grinned as he patted the boy on his head. 

“What’s this now? Still in your pajamas?” Nanny fretted.

“Want to see a little magic trick?” Brother Francis asked.

“I sure do! But Nanny says your magic tricks are rubbish and beneath you!” Warlock laughed as Nanny crossed her arms.

“Well now! Close your eyes and turn around three times. You can count to three, right?” Brother Francis asked with a wink.

The boy did as he was told, and a minor miracle was performed.

“Look Nanny! No more pajamas! You’re amazing Brother Francis!” Warlock cried as he flung his arms around the robust gardener. “Can I carry the basket? Please! I won’t drop it, not even once.”

“Of course, my dear.” Nanny hands the basket to the boy, seemingly weightless despite the multitude of items stored inside.

The trio set off, the boy ran ahead, scouting the perfect spot to settle down, reveling in the sunshine as he acted out the fantasies in his mind. The angel and demon strolled together, side by side as they conversed, relaxed and happy on such a perfect day in the countryside. 

_Perfect, just like you, my angel._

......


	19. 2013 (roughly 6 years before the End of the World) Part 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter almost broke me

Seated on a fine tartan print blanket, Brother Francis, Nanny and Warlock enjoy a fine lunch in the sunshine. Warlock, of course, only nibbles at the fruit and eats most of the cookies, while the angel dines of the thoughtfully prepared snacks.

“Nanny,” Warlock yawned. “Can you sing me a lullaby?”

“Now, my dear?” She replied with apprehension.

“Please, I’m not tired, I just want to rest my eyes.” The boy said as he settled his small body between where Nanny and Brother Francis were seated. 

Singing for the child was one thing, singing in front of an angel was something else entirely. Warlock, unaware of the gravity of his request, reached for her hand and settled it upon his own.

She closed her eyes, and began:

_Sleep my child and peace attend thee,_

_All through the night_

_Guardian angels God will send thee,_

_All through the night_

_Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,_

_Hill and dale in slumber sleeping_

_I my loved ones' watch am keeping,_

_All through the night_

She paused to take a breath, it was in that moment, it happened. A voice, soft at first, tentative and guarded began the second verse. 

_Angels watching, e'er around thee,_

_All through the night_

_Midnight slumber close surround thee,_

_All through the night_

_Soft the drowsy hours are creeping,_

_Hill and dale in slumber sleeping_

_I my loved ones' watch am keeping,_

_All through the night_

More glorious than any sound he had ever heard, and he had heard the sound of Jophiel herself sing, could even come close the glorious singing that filled his heart.

Then, two voices never meant to join in song did. 

_While the moon her watch is keeping_

_All through the night_

_While the weary world is sleeping_

_All through the night_

_O'er thy spirit gently stealing_

_Visions of delight revealing_

_Breathes a pure and holy feeling_

_All through the night_

A miraculous symphony. Impossible harmonies. Two opposite entities resonating as one.

Warlock lay fast asleep between them, unaware that he was now nestled between Crowley and Aziraphale.

Crowley listened as the angel sang the final verse, listened and watched. Everything they had been through together had led to this moment in time, and he refused to relinquish a single second. 

Aziraphale finished his song, a blush filled his cheeks as he realized the demon had been staring at him, staring without the shield of his glasses. Those raw, intense golden eyes full of wonder, full of awe, full of love. He could not help himself, he leaned in as did the demon, closer and closer. Scarcely a breath between them. 

“We can’t.” Aziraphale whispered, breaking the silence.

“We can.” Crowley whispers back, edging his lips closer, until their foreheads rested against the other’s.

“If you kiss me, I won’t be able to stop myself. I won’t be able to resist you any longer. I won’t want to resist you. We can’t.”

“Aziraphale, I don’t want to pretend anymore. I need you to know that I lov...” 

The angel drew his finger to the demon’s lips as he struggled in vain against tears. 

“Shhh, please. Please, you cannot say it now. Not yet. If you say it now, then it becomes real, and I will not be able to go back to the way things were, I will not be able to conceal my feelings from them, and that will be a disaster. They will use it, they will use us against each other, and while I know most certainly that I can endure whatever punishment Heaven will give, what Hell will do to you, that I cannot endure.” Tears flowed down the angel’s face as he spoke. 

“Can’t you see, how difficult it has been for me to resist you? I’m afraid that if you say it, I will not be able to hold back.” Aziraphale touched Crowley’s hair, brushed his fingers along the demon’s cheek before placing them against his lips again.

“I need to keep you safe, and that means it must remain unsaid. I cannot lose you, I cannot go on without you. Everything we are trying to do would be meaningless if I didn’t have you beside me, if I didn’t have you to fight for.” Aziraphale’s voice broke as he choked back a sob.

“Do you want it to be real?” Crowley asked gently.

“Look at me, please, look in my eyes; you must know, after all this time, you have to know by now, it has always been real for me.” The angel’s voice softened, as he gazed at the demon.

Crowley nodded, as tears spilled from his eyes. “Is it always to be this way then?”

“I have to believe that it will not. I have faith that things will be different one day, and I have faith that day is coming soon. Crowley, we are so close to that happening, please...I need to keep you safe, even if that means sacrificing my heart’s desire.” 

“Alright, angel. I can wait.” Crowley once more rested his forehead against the angel’s as the tears continued to come. “Please sing for me again?”

Aziraphale began the finest love song he’d heard in centuries. They were still close, so very close. The demon placed his head upon the angel’s shoulder, their fingers entwined.

_When the rain is blowing in your face_

_And the whole world is on your case_

_I could offer a warm embrace_

_To make you feel my love_

_When evening shadows and the stars appear_

_And there is no one there to dry your tears_

_I could hold you for a million years_

_To make you feel my love_

_I know you haven't made your mind up yet_

_But I would never do you wrong_

_I've known it from the moment that we met_

_No doubt in my mind where you belong_

_I'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue_

_I'd go crawling down the avenue_

_And oh, there's nothing that I wouldn't do_

_To make you feel my love_

_The storms are raging on the rolling sea_

_And on the highway of regret_

_The winds of change are blowing wild and free_

_You ain't seen nothing like me yet_

_I could make you happy, make your dreams come true_

_Nothing that I wouldn't do_

_Go to the ends of the earth for you_

_To make you feel my love_

“Nanny?” Little Warlock’s sleepy voice asked, and in an instant, all was restored to how the child knew his world to be.

“I’m here, my darling. I’m right here.” Nanny cooed, separating her finger’s from Brother Francis’s and running them through the boy’s hair.

“Is there still time for us to picnic? I didn’t even get to fly my kite!” The boy protested.

“We have time for that, Young Master.” Brother Francis helped the child to his feet, and the three of them made their best attempt to raise the kite.

The sky turned a hazy orange, signaling that night would soon be upon them. Warlock reached for Nanny’s hand and then for Brother Francis’s; they walked home, periodically lifting the boy over patches of dirt and wayward sticks, much to his delight. 

Their arrival at the country estate was quiet, as neither Mr. nor Mrs. Downing were home. Nanny helped the boy bathe and ready himself for bed. As she read to him, he colored on a leaf of paper.

“I made this for you!” Warlock said with pride.

“It’s lovely my dear.” Nanny said as she looked at the picture.

“See, that’s me jumping over that big rock! Remember? And that’s you and Brother Francis.” The boy said as he pointed to two figures clearly holding hands in the drawing.

“But why are we holding hands?” Nanny asked as she raised her eyebrow.

“Nanny!” Warlock sighed. “It’s ok, I won’t tell anyone that you love each other. I don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“My darling, such an imaginative of yours.” Nanny said as she pulled the covers over the child.

“Nanny, I wish every day could be like today.” The innocent child murmured.

“So do I, my dear boy, so do I.” Nanny kissed Warlock atop his head and turned out the lights. She held the drawing in her hands as she left the room; it would be placed among her many treasures that she has kept over the years. But few would ever be this precious. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Make you feel my love” written by Bob Dylan, one of my absolute favorite singers. 
> 
> “All through the night” is an old Welsh lullaby, that’s not a coincidence!!


	20. 998 AD

Reindeer Prompt!

In an old Norse village, at the top of the world, an angel has been sent to make certain that Christianity takes root in this pagan territory. As it happens, a demon has been sent to spur the people to their old gods and to go out and explore the world outside.

“Why shouldn’t you find new lands to conquer and explore? Who is to say what is out there, beyond the sea?” The demon purred to a strapping young man with a lust for adventure.

“What will I find out there? Will I come back?” The man questioned.

“If you are hard of heart and strong of will.” The demon whispered back.

Better you than me. I have no desire to go to that wretched land mass.  Crowley mused to himself as he watched the man stride confidently away.

“Hello Crowley!” A familiar voice rang out.

“Aziraphale, what the devil are you doing here!”

“You mean besides freezing!” The angel joked. “I’m meant to be spreading the word of our Lord. Well, my Lord as it were.”

“And how is that working for you?” Crowley said snidely.

“They are rather fond of violence, and blood and spirits.”

“How is that different from your Christian ways? Seems like God is awfully fond of death and bloodshed.”

“That’s blasphemy, Crowley!” Aziraphale said as he fidgeted his fingers.

“Is it now?” The demon laughed. “Well, can’t fault me for questioning God, now can you?” 

“Oh come now!” Aziraphale frowned as he rubbed his arms in attempt to warm. “And why in God’s name is it so damn dark all the time? Honestly, I can’t tell if it’s morning or night. I hate being so cold, it’s just miserable!”

“How do you think I’m fairing?” The former serpent seethed. 

“Fancy a drink?” Aziraphale smiled in spite himself. “The last time we met, I believe it was your treat. This time, it’s mine.” The angel miracled a handful of coins in his hand.

“Lead the way.” Crowley said with amusement.

The village was indeed small and isolated, there was also a distinct lack of inns and bars for them to partake in, thus causing them to make do with what they could find.

“This is just dreadful.” The demon grumbled. “No decent place to drink, no where warm to sit.”

Aziraphale snapped his fingers and before them, two thick fur blankets and modest shelter to keep out the wind. The angel raised his eyebrow as he shrugged his shoulders.

_Well, I can play this game too._ Crowley performed a minor miracle of his own; creating several jugs of wine, the kind they had enjoyed together the last time they were in Rome. He then created a roaring fire, contained within the hut, giving off a pleasant warmth. The demon smirked at the angel who simply rolled his eyes.

They sat down on the furs, comfortably settling down beside the fire. “Pity there’s nothing decent to eat in these parts. I enjoy fish, but not when it’s rotten. It’s ghastly!” The angel sighed.

“Tisk! Pity they don’t have any of those fancy oysters of which you’re so fond.” Crowley teased.

“Pity.” Aziraphale pouted; his lips pursed as he batted his eyes. “I would be terribly grateful for anything remotely edible.”

Crowley snarled as he snapped his fingers creating a tray of figs, almonds, honey, unleavened bread and grapes. 

“Oh! Thank you!” Aziraphale grinned. “Care for another glass of wine?” 

“Wine not.” Crowley laughed at his own pun, while Aziraphale was less amused.

They drank and drank and drank some more, the fire continued to glow while their cheeks became increasingly red.

Without warning, a dazzling display of lights filled the sky; flashes of green and blue danced before them.

“Are you doing this?” Aziraphale asked softly, clearly admiring the unfolding spectacle.

“It’s not me.” Crowley murmured as he removed the glass coverings from his face. “It’s beautiful.” The cascade of light reflected in the glow of his eyes. 

“Beautiful.” The angel whispered as he stole a glance at the being beside him.

“The earth has many wondrous sights.” Crowley smiled as he continued to watch the lights as they danced across the sky. “Shame to think all of this will come to an end one day.”

“It is a shame.” The angel admitted.

“Funny thing for an angel to agree with a demon.” Crowley laughed aloud as he poured them both another glass of wine.

“Just because I believe this world is lovely, that doesn’t mean I agree with you.” Aziraphale shook his head as he took a swig from his glass, spilling more than consuming.

“See those creatures over there?” Crowley pointed towards a herd of reindeer making their way through the ice and snow. “Such animals spend their entire lives looking to eat, sleep and fuc...”

“Language!” Aziraphale chided as he playfully slapped the demon on the arm.

“Fine, fornicate.” Crowley tried to stand but stumbled back onto the ground. “Anyway, they don’t care about anything besides what is directly in front of them. They’re God’s obedient creatures, well, more so than humans are.”

“Humans can be obedient.” Aziraphale attempted to argue.

“Oh can they? Let me ask you, this lot you’re meant to convert; are they really interested in learning about your God or would they rather keep believing what they believe to be real?”

“They will embrace Christianity, eventually.” 

“Why didn’t God just make them Christians to begin with? Why give them a choice?” Crowley asked pointedly. “Why the need to make them convert in the first place?”

“Because...um...what I mean to say...” Aziraphale fumbled for words. “Oh I don’t know. Seems I’m out of wine again!”

“I don’t have any answers either, and I’ve run out of wine.” Crowley lamented as he drained the last of the liquor from the jug.

“Well, consider this your lucky day!” Aziraphale chuckled as produced another jug of wine from behind his back. 

“You’re worse than I!” Crowley threw his head back in delight. 

“Is that so?” Aziraphale said coyly. “Who’s to say this isn’t blessed and meant to cleanse you of your demonic ways?”

“Shut it and pour the damn wine.” 

They remain in their modest shelter for the remainder of the night, the sky here was dark for the sunlight did not come during these long winter months. The wine was finished, and both demon and angel were more than a little intoxicated. 

“I haven’t been this drunk in well...I can’t remember.” Aziraphale tried to settle his eyes on the demon.

“I...ugh.” Crowley tasted a foul taste in his mouth. “Alright, I’ve had enough of this. Sober up?”

“Yes, I think that’s a fine idea.” 

They both forced the liquor from their bodies, as unpleasant as the task was, they knew what awaited them in the morning if they did not.

“Crowley,” the angel began. “This was, well, an enjoyable way to pass the time.”

“Better than freezing my ass off.” 

As they passed through the little fishing village, they found themselves in front of an old woman selling her wares.

“Care for a talisman, good sirs?” She asked. “They’re meant to ward off evil spirits.”

“Evil spirits, you say?” Aziraphale laughed as he nudged the demon in the side. “I’ll take two please.” 

“Two?” Crowley said skeptically.

“One for me, and one for you.” The angel smiled as he placed the clay pendant upon a leather cord in the demon’s hand.

Crowley looked down at the simple necklace with a crude drawing etched into its surface. Such a small token, but given freely and without expectation. Such a kindness he had not known before, not even before his fall from grace.

“Farewell Crowley, until we meet again.” Aziraphale gave a smile before vanishing.

“Goodbye,  _angel_.”  Crowley looked over the pendant once more and felt his heart beat quicken. He slipped it around his neck before disappearing into the darkness. 


	21. 1987

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is cheating a little, as this is a separate work I created before the 31 Day Challenge, but since I am short on time, and this chapter fits today’s theme, here it is. 
> 
> Warning- this chapter includes violence, hate speech and revenge. Please be advised.

Warmth Prompt

In Soho’s restaurant district, a single figure walks, umbrella overhead to protect him from the slight drizzle that has given the pavement a smooth sheen that reflects a dazzling rainbow of colors created by the various neon lights above. The gentleman, clearly a gentleman in his tidy appearance and eloquent manner, had just finished a more than satisfactory dinner consisting of a cheese tasting plate, caviar stuffed gnocchi blanched in a nage reduction, a delightful duck confit with seared Brussels sprouts and finished off with a bottle of 1963 Chateau Lafite Rothschild. 

This mild mannered gentleman hummed softly to himself as he turned the corner, leading him down a dimly lit side street. Three shadows slinked menacingly under the glow of a hazy street lamp. He looked up, noting a sinister chill in the air as the three shadows, belonging to three young men, strode towards him with ill intent.

“Good evening,” Aziraphale nodded and offered a smile. “Fine weather we’re having.”

The three young men triangulated themselves around him, the eldest of the trio sneered as the other two crossed their arms.

“Look what we have here! A proper pansy all dressed in his Sunday best.” The eldest spat bitterly. “Well, well, well. Do we take kindly to faggots on our turf boys?”

The other two men remained silent as they shook their heads. 

“See here, I do not want any trouble.” Aziraphale attempting to appeal to their rational sides, said calmly as he lowered his umbrella.

“Don’t want no trouble, eh homo? Just out of the prowl for a boy to fuck, and we’re supposed to just let you, you disgusting pervert?” The elder man laughed cruelly. “Aye Merrill, show him how we deal with boy-fuckers ‘round here.”

Without a moment’s hesitation, the tallest of the three throws a punch, striking Aziraphale under the left eye, causing him to stagger backwards. The other man forces Aziraphale to the ground with a sharp kick, knocking the breath from his chest. The eldest man, laughing with sickening glee, kicked him once more in the ribs. Aziraphale desperately tried to cover his face, dazed as another blow hit him in the back of the head. All the while, the men were shouting such terrible, terrible things at him. 

The leader of the trio takes a step back and from the inside pocket of his jacket, he pulls a serrated knife that he flips once over in his hand.

“Oy Tommy, you didn’t say anything about pulling a knife.” The one called Merrill said in a low voice. “He owns that bookshop downtown, you can’t just...”

“Don’t be a faggot,” Tommy sneered. “It’s just a bit a blood. Hold him up, will ya!” On command, the two men grabbed him by an arm and dragged him to his knees in the middle of the street. The elder boy, grinned with delight as he gripped the knife’s handle tighter, his hand steady as he pointed the blade at Aziraphale. “Time to die, disgusting pansy. Any last words?”

“You don’t have to do this.” Aziraphale pleaded as blood dripped from a gash on his head.

The man named Tommy laughed as he raised the blade, poised to strike Aziraphale in the chest. 

Suddenly, two huge yellow eyes struck without warning, an enormous black snake latched it’s fangs into Tommy’s arm, tearing tendon and flesh as he struggled to break free, his limp hand released the knife and it fell to the ground with a clang. Mitchell let out a blood curdling scream as he frantically sprinted away. The other man attempted to help pry the massive snake from his friend’s unfortunate appendage, and for his efforts, was bitten in the thigh, a deep wound that most certainly would never heal fully. Both men recoiled in horror as the serpent lifted its great head and seemed to grow and grow and grow until it was as tall as them. The towering figure seamless morphed from beast to man, yet any who would be so unfortunate as to catch a glimpse of this creature knew that it was nothing of this earth; a slender, yet menacing creature with hair ablaze and wings as black as night. Wings that when stretched out, filled the entire street, blocking out the light from the overhead lamp until the only sight visible were those two, huge and furious golden eyes. The figure growled in a low, ancient hiss that filled the air surrounding lower London with a grim terror; stirring nightmares and malcontent in its wake. “Sssss leave now before I send you to Hell.” 

The men, clutching their bleeding wounds, stumbled off into the night. Unknowing that their souls were already marked for unending torment, forever scarred and eternally cursed.

“Arizaphale!” The demon cried, lowering his wings and defenses, cradled the angel in his arms. 

“Crowley,” he whispered. “Oh Crowley. You didn’t kill them, did you?”

“I should have.” Crowley snarled through tears as he tried his best to wipe the blood from Aziraphale’s face. 

“Take me home, my dear.” Aziraphale begged, still trying to catch his breath. He closed his eyes and leaned in against Crowley; finding strength and a softness that made him feel safe. 

He helped him to his feet, and together miracled themselves into Aziraphale’s bookshop. He drew some water into one of Aziraphale’s numerous antique china bowls and drew a tartan handkerchief from the stack the angel kept on his oak desk. 

“Come on, let me have a look.” Crowley sighed as he dipped the kerchief in the water, and began to clean off the blood. As he wiped, the cuts and bruises healed, leaving no signs of damage upon the angel. “A little demonic miracle of my own.” He muttered, trying desperately to get a reaction from Aziraphale.

“They were so angry, Crowley. I could feel their hatred the moment I saw them. Why?” His bright blue eyes filled with tears, and soon they were streaming down his cheeks. 

“Oh, don’t cry angel! It’s over now. Then won’t hurt you ever again.” Crowley had always found it impossible to understand human emotions, much less the nuanced reactions to handling them. Normally, he would have retreated to the only coping mechanism he had actually learned from humanity over the millennia, and poured both he and Aziraphale a large glass of whatever alcohol was on hand. But this, seeing his angel in this state, nearly brought him to his knees in despair. 

Crowley set the kerchief down in the bowl, and sat beside Aziraphale on the plush upholstered couch.

“I don’t know, angel.” He said softly. “I don’t understand why hate comes so easily to them.”

“Imagine that it wasn’t me they ran into tonight, but another young man- like they were, and they took out their hatred upon him instead...” Aziraphale’s eyes grew wide in fear. “They would have killed him.”

“They were going to kill you. If they had, they would be spending eternity in Hell, and even that is too good for them.” Crowley replied.

“But why? What is it about love that inspires such hate?” The angel asked.

“You know how humans are, their capacity for evil, evil deeds outweighs anything we demons could conjure.” He reasoned.

“They called me terrible names.” Aziraphale whispered.

Aziraphale’s mind goes back to the assault, back to the pain, back to Crowley. “I have never see you like that before. The last time you took serpent form was...”

“The Ark.”The demon’s voice flat and without affect. 

“Your hair was on fire.” Aziraphale, suddenly finding a deep need to run his fingers through those fiery locks, whispered.

“Hmmm.” Crowley nodded as he continued to brush the dirt from Aziraphale’s clothing.

“I didn’t know you could do that.” The angel said, clearly impressed.

“I’ve never been angry enough before.” Suddenly Crowley stopped moving and raised his eyes to meet the angel’s. “That man was ready to kill you.”

“Lucky for me you were there to save me.” Aziraphale said gently, longing to reach out and take the demon’s hand, but thought better.

Crowley straightened himself, “I don’t see why people get so upset over how others choose to live their lives anyway. Seems to me that humans were given free will, only natural they would use it in any way pleasing to them.”

“Does that include love?” The angel asked delicately.

“Eh.” Crowley shrugged his shoulders.

“Well, I think love is a spectacular feeling.” Aziraphale mused. “Love feels as if all the goodness in the world is spinning around you, surrounding you in a beacon of light that fills your heart with such joy. It’s all so very wonderful.”

“Yes, well demons aren’t capable of love. No warm lights, no fuzzy auras and certainly no wonderful feelings.” The demon said quickly, as he silently miracles away the rips in Aziraphale’s usually well kept clothing. 

The angel studied the creature before him; as he worked, he felt the familiar heat radiating from him, a brilliant glow of warmth surrounded the demon, a dazzling dance of white light glinted and reflected from the ochre of his eyes. Such a display of affection he had felt and seen several times before, but this time, there was an aura of pronounced protection. He knew the encounter tonight had left him rattled, perhaps more so than himself. So he watched, silently adoring the one being who burned so brightly, who loved so fiercely, and who tried so desperately to play his role of evil if only to protect him- to protect them both from the recourse of Heaven and Hell.  _If only you could see yourself right now, through my eyes._ He thought. What good would come from admitting his own feelings, to confessing that long has he stifled his own longing and desire to give his love and receive love in return? But he knows, in his heart, he knows that there is no greater joy than the love he feels in this moment, and for right now, that will have to suffice. “Oh Crowley,” he sighed as he gazed upon the vibrant swell of light surrounding his demon. “So sorry to hear it.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, angel.” The demon had finished his mending, and sat carefully inspecting his handiwork. “Just the nature of being a demon.”

“Crowley,” His voice just above a whisper. “Thank you. You’re always there for me when I need you. It’s quite a miracle, really.”

“Well, suppose it’s just the luck of the Devil.” The demon grinned, but the angel knew better; this was Crowley’s way of diffusing the tension, adding humor to quell the complication of his feelings, feelings that mirrored his own. For this, he would always be thankful and for Crowley, his love would remain ever faithful and ever patient.


	22. One Year After the End of the World that Wasn’t

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sexy times happen! They doin’ it now!! You’ve been warned!

Ghost Prompt!

Crowley woke up frantic, sweating and screaming. Screaming a name. Screaming _his_ name. His eyes wide in terror, still seeing the flames as they danced along the walls, cascaded wildly through the stacks upon stacks of books, gliding over the old wooden desk and closing in around an angel- _his_ angel. The flames held him in the grip of a nightmare, still refusing to extinguish, holding him hostage to his paralyzing fear. 

“Aziraphale!” His voice, dry and breaking as he called out into the darkness. His chest heaving, his breath shallow.

“Crowley! It’s alright! Shhh, I’m right here, I’m right here.” The angel wrapped his arms around the demon as he pulled him close to his body. “Shhh, you’re safe, I’m right here.” 

A sob escaped as he grips tightly, ever so tightly to the angel. He’s shaking, his entire body trembling with panic. 

“Shhh.” Aziraphale cooed, soft with his words, gentle with his touch. He began to sing a song equally soft and gentle:

_I'll be your mirror_

_Reflect what you are, in case you don't know_

_I'll be the wind, the rain and the sunset_

_The light on your door to show that you're home_

_When you think the night has seen your mind_

_That inside you're twisted and unkind_

_Let me stand to show that you are blind_

_Please put down your hands_

_'Cause I see you_

_I find it hard to believe you don't know_

_The beauty you are_

_But if you don't let me be your eyes_

_A hand to your darkness, so you won't be afraid_

_When you think the night has seen your mind_

_That inside you're twisted and unkind_

_Let me stand to show that you are blind_

_Please put down your hands_

_'Cause I see you_

Crowley lessened his grip and eased his body into the angel’s, resting his head against his chest; feeling the peaceful rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Another nightmare, my darling?” Aziraphale murmured, his voice filled with worry, as he stroked the demon’s hair; letting his thick fingers sift through the wavy locks of amber.

“I cannot get that day out of my head. It’s like...” Crowley began, his own fingers stroking the folds of the angel’s bare stomach. “Like I’m haunted by what could have happened. I’m haunted everyday by what can still happen.” Crowley lifted his head, their eyes met and Aziraphale saw his demon’s raw vulnerability etched upon his exquisite face.

“But it did not happen, we won. Remember? They can’t hurt us anymore.” Aziraphale watched the demon carefully for his reaction. 

“Aziraphale, I thought I lost you, lost you to Hell Fire. I cannot bear losing you...you’re all I have.”

“I’m not going anywhere, I’m right here, here with you, my love.” 

_My love_.  In the year since the End of the World that Wasn’t, they first dared to speak those words in whispers; secrets shared between lovers in a dangerous time. For the danger did seem real and ever present, despite the assurance from Heaven and Hell to the contrary. But words came slowly, protected, guarded. Words that grew bolder as the months passed and the season changed. Words that were exchanged no longer in secret, but out in the open. 

“ _My love would like any other plate of oysters.”_

_“I love you, my dear, now please can you stop taking pictures of me with your phone!”_

_“Today, my beloved angel wants cannoli, so I must treat him with cannoli.”_

Words that might have gotten them killed by not only their peers, but by humans as well in the years that proceeded. The world that was left after the failed apocalypse had changed, and they were grateful for it, and for the ability to finally speak the words they longed to say.

“I’m afraid of losing you. You don’t know what that fire did to me; how it scorched all hope, all happiness and all my will.”Crowley confessed.

“But I do know that fear; fear of losing the one I love. I felt that fear the day you asked for Holy Water. I felt that fear everyday since I gave you what could destroy you.” Aziraphale said in quiet voice, as if the shame of giving in to the demon’s request still lingered within him.

For a moment, no words were spoken as they both struggled with their ghosts from the past. 

Aziraphale hoisted the demon onto his lap, he wrapped his arms around his slender body and held him close.

“I never meant to use it on myself, surely you know that I wouldn’t never have left you willingly.” Crowley whispered into the angel’s ear.

“I had faith you wouldn’t.” Aziraphale traced along the length of the massive scar on the demon’s back; soothing as best he could the eternal ache that caused him continuous pain.

“I’m afraid, my love, I’m afraid that you will get hurt. I would do anything to keep you safe.” The demon pressed his forehead against the angel’s and closed his eyes.

“Our greatest strength is each other, our love is powerful. Crowley, we’ve done the impossible already, and if they come for us, then we will face them, as we did before, hand in hand and side by side.”

“Even if it’s Heaven that comes for us?” Crowley’s voice nearly breaking.

“I would fight all of the angels for you. We’re on our own side, never forget that, my dear.”

“I love you.” 

“And I love you.” Aziraphale whispered back. He nuzzled his nose against the demon’s, producing a rare smile . _You are my world_ _._

They share a kiss, soft and gentle at first, yet changing to frantic and desperate; the need to feel the other, their desire to fill the space that had dwelled between them for far too long.

Crowley moaned as the angel entered him, filling his body with heat as he thrusts hard, up and down, again and again, finding the  rhythm that flows easily between them. Gone were the days of fumbling around in Crowley’s old flat, their nights of awkward love making evolved as they mastered each other’s bodies.

The demon rocked his hips, his body undulating as he takes the angel into him, deeper and deeper. Aziraphale whimpered with each stroke, sinking his fingers into the demon’s neck as he pulls his mouth in again for a kiss, a low grunt escaped his throat as their tongues meet. Their eyes lock as the pace quickened, a frenzied pulse sends the demon over the edge; hot cum spills from him as he cries out a name- _his_ name while the euphoria washed over him, tears slip from his golden eyes; tears of joy, tears of pure love. The demon’s breath labored as their mouths meet again and the angel, so in awe of this magnificent creature, cannot look away.

“You’re so beautiful.” Aziraphale murmured as he effortlessly lifted the demon off their bed and pressed him against the wall. Crowley’s legs wrap around him as the angel resumed his pace; Aziraphale takes his time, pulling out, thrusting deep slowly, patiently until the heat becomes overwhelming. He cums inside his demon, he closed his eyes as the release flows from him, his body quivering from pleasure. He delivered one final kiss as he pulls out, spent and breathless. Aziraphale lowered Crowley so the demon’s feet touch the floor, before whisking him into his arms, grinning as he set his lover back upon their bed. 

“Feel better?” The angel said as he brushed a lock of hair from Crowley’s cheek, tucking it lovingly behind his ear.

“Ngk.” The demon sighed as his head fell against the pillows. 

“I love you.” Aziraphale curled his body beside the demon’s; resting his head upon his beloved’s chest, performing a quick miracle to clean the mess they made of each other.

“There has never been a moment since we met when I didn’t love you.” Crowley purred as love radiated from him. “There will never be a moment that I won’t love you.”

“Let them try to come for us, they won’t stand a chance.” The angel gives his beloved a quick squeeze, before closing his eyes. Sleep welcomed them both with ease, the lovers intertwined as they rest. The nightmares gone, as the ghosts have been chased away. They slumber through the night, peacefully content and blissfully in love.

The angel was correct, they were stronger together, and their love, special and rare, held within it a power that should be feared by any who would dare to challenge them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is “I’ll be your mirror” by The Velvet Underground


	23. Roughly 1 hour after the End of World that Wasn’t

Holiday Card prompt!

An angel, a demon and the Antichrist sat on the tarmac of the decommissioned US Air Base in Tadfield. The young boy reached over to pet his dog, the former Hell Hound turned loyal companion.

“So, you’re an angel then?” Adam asked, finally breaking the silence.

“I am.” Aziraphale nodded.

“And you’re a demon?” Adam questioned as he looked at the flame- haired being.

“Last time I checked.” Crowley grumbled.

“That’s it then? We got this whole end of the world business sorted?” The boy shrugged.

“I believe we have. Thanks to you.” Aziraphale patted the boy on the head.

“So what do we do now?” Adam, ever curious asked.

“Not sure, didn’t think we would actually get this far.” Aziraphale confessed.

“You get to make the world how ever you want.” Crowley reasoned. “Reality is listening to you, so you can do pretty much anything.”

“Not sure I want that kind of responsibility.”

“I have a few questions,” Anathema said, as she walked towards them. “Think we could talk?” 

“Of course, my dear.” Aziraphale stood and walked off with the witch.

“Can I tell you something?” Adam asked with wide eyes. “I was scared. I was really scared. I kept thinking about mum and dad, and my friends and Dog. I didn’t want them to get hurt, I didn’t want anything to happen to them. I...I was so afraid.”

Crowley beheld the young boy, for he was indeed, so very young and so vulnerable; it was remarkable that he was able to stand up to not only Satan, but to Gabriel and Beelzebub as well. “I was afraid too.” The demon admitted. 

“You were?” Adam sat upright, his body lurched forward. “But Hell, I mean, our side could have won.”

“Is it our side?” Crowley asked the child. “Do you consider yourself aligned with Hell?

“I suppose not. Not any more than you do.”Adam picked at the laces of his sneakers. “So why did you decide to stand against Hell?”

“Didn’t want to have to live there permanently. Dreadful place really.” 

“That’s not the real reason. The boy pressed. “You know I can tell that you’re lying, and that’s ok. But you shouldn’t lie, at least not to the ones who you love the most.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Crowley frowned.

“You do.” Adam rolled his eyes. “And considering you almost lost, maybe it’s time to be honest about how you really feel. No more lies, ok?”

“But I’m a demon and demons...”

“I can make it so you can’t lie, but I’d rather not.”

“Fine. I didn’t want the earth to end. I didn’t want to fight any angels, especially Gabriel, and I certainly didn’t want to lose Aziraphale.”

“I knew it.” Adam smiled. 

“You’re just a kid, what do you know.”

“Maybe you’re right.” The boy paused, biting his lip, unsure how to approach the next subject. “I think God talked to me.” Adam said quietly.

“Oh? How do you know it was God and not someone else?”

“She told me that she was proud of me, and that she loved me. She said that I was the best of what mankind was supposed to be, and that it didn’t matter who my father was; all that mattered is who I am, who I want to be.”

“That’s very nice. I’m sure that made you feel better.”

Adam shook his head. “She also told me to tell you that it’s been long enough, and that you should make your move already. Whatever that means. Care for a sherbet lemon?” Adam offered as he stood up and walked towards the angel and Anathema. Crowley held the candy in his hand and considered how this night might have ended had it not been for the child’s quick thinking.  _We stood together, he reached for my hand, and he was ready to fight with me. Us. He and I together._ The demon opened his hand and looked at the simple candy in his hand. _Make_ _my move already?_

“Well done, Adam.” Anathema hugged the boy. “You saved us all.”

“I had help.” Adam said as he looked at Aziraphale. 

“I’m afraid I was of no use to you, my dear boy.”

“I don’t think I would have had the courage if not for you and Mr. Crowley.” Adam looked at Dog, who barked knowingly. “So why did you help me anyway? Why didn’t you side with Heaven? Seems your lot was really excited about the end of the world.”

“Oh, I’m afraid I’m not like the other angels.”

“I wouldn’t say it like that, I would say that the other angels aren’t like you.” Adam chirped sweetly.

“You’re a remarkable young man, Adam. I do apologize for trying to kill you earlier, I was only looking out for the greater good.”

“I know. Besides, I knew you weren’t really going to hurt me, so no harm done.” Adam said as Dog gave an approving bark.

“What are you going to do now?” The angel’s curiosity got the better of him.

“I don’t know. Grow up, I think.”

Aziraphale smiled at the child. “I think that’s a splendid idea.”

“I...I think I need to tell you something.” Adam began. “I kind of have a message for you. From God.”

“Oh?” 

“She sort of spoke to me, back when everything was getting scary, and She talked to me, and then She told me that I needed to give you a message. But I’m afraid it doesn’t make any sense.”

“What’s the message?”

“She said to tell the angel that She likes the milk pot.” Adam shrugged. “Maybe I was just dreaming or hallucinating or so something. Pepper says that the government uses drugs to poison people by means of mind control, so maybe that’s what happened.”

“Milk pot?” Aziraphale mused for moment. “Oh! Oh my goodness! The book!” 

“Book?” Adam questioned, but Aziraphale was lost in thought.

_That would mean...it’s true. She wanted me to know the truth. Oh Crowley_ _!_ The angel sighed.

“Adam, your dad is here.” Pepper called over. 

The angel and demon froze, fear filling them both.

“You know, your “dad” dad, not that other lot.” Pepper said. “Hello Mr. Young.”

“Adam! What is going on here?” Mr. Young, clearly confused asked as he stepped out of his car.

“One minute dad!” Adam called over. “Listen, I’m not sure about all this...stuff. I have more than a few questions, and maybe you might be able to...” 

“Sure kid. Well keep in touch. Send you a Christmas card.” Crowley groaned.

“Of course, my dear boy. You can find me here.” Aziraphale miracled a lovey white business card with gold lettering and handed it to Adam.

“A.Z Fell and co Bookshop.” Adam read aloud. “Thanks. But if I have some questions that aren’t heavenly in nature?”

“Alright. Fine.” Crowley produced his own card, black with raised red lettering.

“Antony J. Crowley.” Adam mused. “What does the J stand for?”

“Jed.” Crowley grinned. 

“Jed?” Aziraphale said with surprise. “Beloved of the Lord? Short for...”

“Just Jed, angel.” Crowley snapped. “Farewell, Antichrist.” The pair watched as the boy turned and ran towards his earthly father. “Nice kid.” 

“Indeed.” Aziraphale nodded.

“Come on angel, lift home?” Crowley grumbled.

“Lift in what? Your car was destroyed, remember?” The angel said gently.

“Oh. Right.” The demon’s smile faded, his shoulders slumped forward.

“I do believe there’s a train station not far from here. If you don’t mind a less flashy from of transportation.”

“I suppose.”

They walked together in silence, both lost in through as they tried to make sense of all that happened in those last few hours. The bench for the train was empty, and they sat down, side by side. Crowley miracled a bottle of wine,of which he promptly took a generous swig. He turned to the being beside him and offered the bottle, to which he gladly accepted.

“Just imagine how terrible it might have been if we’d been at all competent.” Aziraphale mused as he drank from the bottle of wine; dignity and manners went by the wayside given the circumstances.

“Point taken.” Crowley sighed as he tilted his head back, resting his eyes.

“Suppose I should have them drop me at the Bookshop.”

“It’s not there anymore, it burned down, remember?” Crowley said gently, a terrible feeling passed through him. “You can stay with me, if you’d like.”

“I don’t think my side would like that very much.”

“You don’t have a side anymore. Neither of us do. It’s as Agnes said, we have to choose our faces wisely.” 

“Crowley,” the angel said tentatively. “I will stay with you, if you don’t mind.”

The demon nearly slid off the bench at the angel’s words. Desperately, he took another long swig of the wine and cleared his throat. “Alright then.” He had to turn his head, for his grin would surely have given him away. “The bus is here.”

An angel and a demon sat down, side by side once more. Aziraphale reached for Crowley’s hand, fingers interlaced as naturally as if they were made for each other. Crowley lay his head upon the angel’s shoulder and closed his eyes.  _It’s time, tonight is the night._ He slipped the sherbet lemon into his pocket for safe keeping. A little reminder of the night it almost ended. Almost.


	24. Roughly 7 minutes after the End of the World that Wasn’t

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a little ficlet that is written before the prompts. Hope you like it!

“We’re fucked”

There before them stood the Archangel  Gabriel and Beelzebub, Prince of Hell. Gabriel, his face twisted in an sadistic smile, began unfurling his wings, one after another; each one more terrifying than the other. Beelzebub, surrounded by flies, unleashed his monstrous wings and brandished his bow and arrow, poisoned with the fires of hell. Both prepared to unleash their wrath upon the angel and demon standing between them and the antichrist.

Crowley, holding nothing more than a spent tire iron from his once glorious, yet now demolished, 1926 black Bentley that had not a scratch upon it until the hellfire that ignited theM25. The demon turned his gaze towards the brilliant light standing beside him. Aziraphale, despite his soft and genial appearance, stood, flaming sword in hand, poised to fight against the horror before them. Crowley’s heart soared at the sight of the angel, a desperate wave of fierce love came over him. “We stand together.” He whispered to himself, trying to steady his confidence against the rage of both Heaven and Hell. Suddenly, the world shifted, and he found himself alone, encompassed in darkness.

“Anthony J Crowley.” A voice boomed from above as time seems to stop. He was now upon the precipice of a brilliantly lit hallway. He walked down the corridor, towards the voice that called to him.

“Anthony J Crowley!”The voice bellowed once more.

“G...god? Is that you?” He sputtered in disbelief.

“Yes, my child.” God’s harmonious voice replied. “It seems things have gotten, well, rather complicated.”

He scratches his head and tried to come up with something witty to say, yet no words came.

God continued. “Crowley, my sweet child, what are you going to do about this situation?”

He sighed, “Well, I just thought I would...you know, fix it.” 

“How did you plan on preventing armageddon?” God asked curiously.

“I don’t know.” He gestured wildly, trying not to show how utterly defeated he felt. “It’s a mess. I don’t know how to fix it.”

“Oh Crowley, how you suffer.” God’s voice soothed. “My fallen angel, your pain displeases me.” 

“Your pain?” Crowley suddenly snarled, in a such an angry tone that it surprised even him. 

“I was forsaken by you. You cast me out. You made me to suffer.” Crowley, forgetting himself completely, lashed out in anger.

“I know. Banishing you caused me pain beyond pain. For you see, my child, of all my creations, I love you and one other, above all.” God’s voice fell upon him like a thousand flaming arrows, setting his heart ablaze.

“You- you love me?” Crowley’s voice broke. Words failed him again as he tears filled his eyes.

“My dearest child,” God continued. “I love you in ways that even I cannot comprehend.”

“But why? Why would you banish me? Cast me out like garbage! That’s not love! It’s cruelty! How could you? Why? Tell me!” He screamed to the heavens, clenching his fists.

“My sweet Crowley, when I created you, there was nothing that could match the love I had for you. You were perfect. My Favorite.” God’s voice echoed thought the vastness. “Then I made another creature, one who was just as perfect and for whom my love was equal. Yet, this creature, one so gentle and pure, needed attention and protection. And that creature, my child, became your eternal purpose.”

Crowley pondered for a moment. Still God continued to speak. “I made the most difficult decision I’ve ever had to make, I needed you to watch over this creature. None other were worthy. For only you could be so mindful and attentive. Only you could be trusted to perform such a task. So I had to cast you out. Knowing that one day, you would fulfill your glorious mission.”

Crowley paused, filled with confusion. “What are you saying?”

“You have done brilliantly protecting my beloved child over the centuries. Keeping him from harm, guarding and watching over him. After all this time, do you think that I have not noticed?” God said plainly.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Crowley denied.

“You do, my sweet child. I see your heart, and I know your greatest desire.” As God spoke, Aziraphale appeared beside him; frozen in time, flaming sword in hand, eyes filled with determination as he prepared for battle. He felt his heart skip a beat.

“Crowley, my sweet, you have fought so valiantly, yet even you must see, that this world is meant to burn to ash. But your efforts are not in vain. I will prove my love for you; I offer you a gift.”

Crowley, still fixated on Aziraphale, asked, “A gift?”

“Yes, my child. For your suffering, I offer you the stars. You will have galaxies and nebulas at your whim. But I know that is not enough for you. To prove my love, I offer you my beloved Aziraphale, my most cherished angel, to join you among the stars as your reward. Neither Heaven nor Hell will come for you. You will be together, and free, and my beloved Crowley, you will be happy.” As God spoke, Crowley’s golden eyes changed; they darkened and filled with stars as he was entranced by God’s promise.

“Crowley, my tired child, I offer you happiness. Just say the word, and it will be done.”

Stars danced in his eyes. “Together.” He murmured. “And I will be happy....” His eyes grew wider as visions of eternity with Aziraphale flashed before him. “I will be happy...” He closed his eyes, before opening them again slowly, methodically, as he did, the stars within them began to dim and fade, and were once more the vibrant yellow they had been for many millennia. “But Aziraphale will not be happy.” He paused. “I can be happy in the stars with him, but he cannot. Aziraphale loves his bookshop, and fine wine, and sushi. He loves fancy clothes and crepes and brioche and more than anything, he loves humans and their pursuit of knowledge. How could he be happy without any of those things?” 

“I could make him happy. I can make him forget all Earthly pleasures. He will be yours, and yours alone.” God cooed. “Alpha Centuri and Aziraphale will be all for you. Just say yes, you know you want to.”

“It is true,” Crowley began. “That I love Aziraphale more than anything. That he has held my heart for 6000 years, and that I want nothing more than to be at his side for eternity. But spending eternity in the stars with an Aziraphale who has forgotten his earthly delights, is a cheap alternative. I love him because of his affections for earth.”

“Crowley, my brightest star, this earth is over. If you refuse me, then you, and Aziraphale, will perish.” God proclaimed. “But if you accept, then I promise you that Aziraphale will love you as obediently as he loves Heaven. He will be blissfully happy because I will make it so. How can you refuse?”

Crowley pondered for a moment, his eyes fixed upon Aziraphale’s frozen face. He wanted to reach out, to touch his cheek, to feel his warmth, yet thought better. 

He sighed before speaking. “God, almighty one, while your offer gives me everything I could ever hope for, it is ultimately a selfish desire. I do not want Aziraphale to love me because you command him to, I want him to love me because he choose so. He may never choose to love me, as he is, after all, unfailingly good, but I can accept that.” 

Crowley swallowed hard. “If we are to die, then we will die side by side. My choice and his choice.”

“Are you certain, my beloved?” God pressed.

“Yes.” He answered sincerely. “I am sure.”

God fell silent for a moment. 

“You are, and always will be, loved beyond measure.” God answered. Crowley closed his eyes, tears streaking down his face as he felt God’s love to wash over him. 

The light began to dim, but not before God asked one final question.

“My cherished child, I must know, what does the J stand for?” God asked curiously.

“Oh! Um, it’s just a J really.” He stifled a laugh. “Haven’t given it much thought.”

“I like it.” God replied. “But might I make a suggestion?”

“What’s that?” Crowley asked with wonder.

“How about Jed?” God proposed. 

“Jed?” Crowley laughed. “Jed.” He said again with interest. “Hmmm. Anthony Jed Crowley does have a nice ring to it.”

“It does indeed.” God’s voice echoed through the endless chasm. 

The glowering faced begins to fade, and the brutal reality of the present comes glaringly into focus. Crowley, lowering his tire iron, turns to face the heavenly body beside him.

“Aziraphale,” he murmured. “There is something I have to tell you.”

“I know.” Aziraphale says, as he lowers his sword while turning towards the demon. “There is something I must tell you too. And I’m afraid it cannot wait.” 

......


	25. Roughly 7 minutes after the End of the World Part 2

“ We’re fucked!”

Aziraphale turns to look back at the group of children clustered together, Pepper, Brian and Wensleydale watch, eyes wide with fear, as the Archangel and Prince of Hell transform into their celestial forms. Adam Young, The Antichrist, stands right behind him and Crowley, the young boy quietly absorbing all that is unfolding around him, but his only concern seems to the be supposed Hell Hound trembling at his feet.  Do something Crowley!  He thinks to himself. He closes his eyes and as he opens them, he feels an intense light shining down from Heaven, one he has not felt for 6000 years.

“Aziraphale, Guardian of the Eastern Gate, I see you found the sword I gave you.” God’s voice broke upon him like the crescendo of a symphony; leaving him shaking with both joy and despair.

“Oh! Well, yes.” He stumbled over his words. “But that’s not important. You got my message! Thank the Lor...I mean, thank you!”

“Aziraphale, what is it that you want me to do?” God asked plainly.

“What I want you to do? Right! What I want you do is to stop this! The world doesn’t need to end!” He waved his arms erratically. “That boy is The Antichrist, and by some miracle, he refuses to start the apocalypse. But Gabriel is convinced that this war must happen, and now he and Beelzebub will stop at nothing to see that Heaven and Hell have their way. But you can stop this, all of it!” He pleads with desperation coursing through his voice.

“Aziraphale, what if this is the Great Plan, the Ineffable Plan, and all of this is meant to happen?” God asked calmly.

“I cannot believe that you would destroy humanity just to settle a proverbial score.” He argued, his voice shaking. “They do not deserve to die. Humans are inherently good and filled with wonder. They have created so many beautiful things; music, art, language, food and books, so many wonderful stories they have told over the centuries! They are curious and constantly seeking understanding and knowledge, and that has given them grace and their lives meaning. How can you destroy so many miracles made from their own hands?” 

“Aziraphale, you, more than anyone, must know how much the human mean to me.” God’s voice offered him some measure of comfort. 

“So...you will stop all of this then?” He asked hopefully.

“Yes, Aziraphale. I will stop this and set things right.” God soothed.

He let out a shriek of joy; his hands clasped together and a brilliant smile flashed across his face. “Oh thank you my Lord! You truly are merciful!”

“I will return the world to the way it was yesterday. What has been done will be undone. I will return the angels to Heaven, with the exception one exception, and banish the demons back to Hell.” God declared triumphantly.

He paused for a moment. “All...all the demons will be sent back to Hell?”

“Yes,” God replied. “All of them.”

“But what about Crowley? Surely you do not intend to banish him to Hell.” The very thought made him ill.

“He is a demon, he belongs in Hell, Aziraphale.” God stated coolly.

“Crowley doesn’t belong in Hell! I mean, he is a demon, but he’s not...he’s not like the rest of them.” He protested.

“Aziraphale, are you saying that he belongs in Heaven?” God’s voice raised in tone ever so slightly.

“Oh goodness no!” He nearly laughed at the idea of Crowley strolling into Heaven with his ridiculously tight pants, low cut shirt and flashy watch, asking Michael for a high-five and languishing seductively over a plush chaise he miracles into existence. “No, he belongs on earth, he’s been living among humans for well, for as long as I have.”

“He has,” God began. “And he’s been corrupting them for as long as he’s been on earth. You remember it was Crowley who tempted Eve to eat the apple. It was him who set all of this into motion. So, in reality, everything that is happening now is directly his doing.”

“In his defense, you did put the forbidden tree in the very center of Eden. Seems to me they would have succumbed to temptation even without Crowley’s influence.” He daringly argued.

“Aziraphale, Crowley is a demon, he is Fallen, and despite what you believe, he deserves to be in Hell.” God reasoned.

“But Hell is angry with him over this business over the mixup with The Antichrist. They will not be pleased with the canceling of the apocalypse.” A shudder went down his spine as he considered what Hell would do to Crowley as a result of his betrayal.

“Aziraphale, I fail to see how that is a concern to you.” God remarked. “What Hell chooses to do with one of their own shouldn’t concern you.”

“Except it does, in fact, concern me. Greatly.” He could hardly conceal his growing anger. “They will destroy him for what he has done for humanity. For what he has done for me.”

“And what has he done for you?” God asked.

“Crowley has been there every time I needed help. He’s saved me more times that I can even count.” His memories go back to the little village decimated by the Black Plague where he nearly discooporated due to illness, to The Bastille where he was nearly beheaded, to Nazi occupied London where he was nearly shot, to a dark alley in the late 1980’s where he was nearly beaten to death; every single one of those moments could have been his last, had it not been for the miraculous appearance of a certain demon. “He’s been there for me. He’s always been there for me.” The words kept coming, and he could scarcely stop himself from speaking. “It was Crowley who came to my rescue time and time again. Crowley who convinced me to try to stop the apocalypse. Crowley who was there for me when Heaven turned their backs on me.”

“Aziraphale, it sounds as if you have affection for him.” God questioned, and he could feel God’s judgement upon him. But he would not be diminished, not anymore.

“If it sounds that way, it’s because I do.” He snapped. “I have more affection for a demon than I do for my own kind. When was the last time an angel offered me any kindness? Heaven treats me like a joke; they belittle and mock me.”

“I am not altering my decision on this, Aziraphale. If you want to save the earth, then Crowley must be sent to Hell. With demon influence, this same scenario will continue to occur, time and time again.”

“You’re asking me to sacrifice Crowley, to damn him to utter destruction at the hands of Hell to save the world?” He clenched his fists and nearly drew blood from biting his lip so hard. 

“I am. But for that sacrifice, you will have the earth and all its splendors. You will have it’s music, art, language, food and books. You will be free from Heaven’s scorn and free to enjoy yourself. Be thankful that I am giving you this opportunity, thankful that I have not cast you out for your indiscretions. I am giving you this reward for your many years of loyal service to making humanity inherently good. Choose carefully, Aziraphale.”

“Then my answer is no. I won’t sacrifice Crowley. I won’t abandon him! You might not care what happens to him, but I most certainly do.” He is filled with defiance now, filled with an anger that he had never experienced before, but now that he had unleashed it, there was no stopping him.

“Not even to save all of mankind? How can one demon be worth all of this?” God’s voice roared back.

“Look at him right now! Just look! Crowley is going to fight Gabriel and Beelzebub with nothing more than some busted car part, and you have the nerve to say he is the cause of humanity’s downfall? He is their savior and protector! He and I, we are the only ones fighting for the earth. We’re the only ones fighting for what is right!” He gestured to the frozen scene playing out before him: Gabriel about to unfurl his final wings, The Prince of Hell raising his cursed bow and Crowley, still in human form, brandishing a bent piece of metalwith as much menace as he could muster.

“Surely you know you cannot win against them. But if you somehow make it out of this alive, Gabriel will see you punished for siding with a demon, and he will not show mercy.” God said with a knowing arrogance.

“I would rather face Heaven’s judgement and die a traitor’s death than betray Crowley!” He spat bitterly.

“Why would you choose to die for this demon?” God roared angrily.

“Because I love him!” He screamed as loudly as he could, and he immediately gasped at the boldness of his own words. He repeated them quietly to himself. “Because I love him.” He looked at Crowley, frozen in time, standing beside him in triumphant glory; poised to defend him and everything he holds dear. He studied the sharp angles of his face, the cascade of fiery red hair that seemed almost ablaze in the evening sunlight, the intensity in his eyes visible even under his dark sunglasses, the trail of freckles that formed over centuries of sunshine that traced along his cheek, spilling onto his neck and down his clavicle. He sighed, drew in a breath and steadied himself before continuing. “I know who I am and I know where I belong. I was afraid before, afraid of what Heaven would think, about what you would think, but I’m not afraid anymore. I love Crowley, and I have loved him for so long that I cannot remember a time when he did not hold my heart. Where he is is where I belong. For you see, I am not only the Guardian of the Eastern Gate, I am the Principality Aziraphale, and along with Demon Anthony J. Crowley, we are the Protectors of humanity, and we will stand together to defend the earth against anyone or anything that threatens our home. Because that is who we are, and earth is where we belong, and we belong together. Me and him. I would rather die fighting by his side, than live in a world without him. For we are together; we are on our own side. I don’t care what Gabriel thinks, he can lick my ass if he doesn’t like it!” He thought for a moment, or was it kiss?

“That is your decision then, Aziraphale?” God asked flatly.

“Yes. That is my decision.” He stood proudly, chest heaving as his hand still firmly gripped the sword. “Furthermore, if you’re going to damn me and cast me out, could you kindly wait until all of this is finished, because I’m in the middle of something important. I cannot simply die without telling Crowley that I love him.”

“Very well.” God’s voice softened. “And Aziraphale, it’s about time, don’t you think?”

“Oh?” He fumbled for words, unsure how to respond. Just as he attempted to process God’s final words, he felt a wave of intense love wash upon him; sending him reeling and filling his eyes with tears. “Thank you, my Lord.” He whispers quietly and as soon as it began, the bright light radiating from the clouds dimmed, and time began again.

He turns his attention away from the terrors before him, and shifted his gaze towards the slender figure beside him.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley began. “There is something I must tell you.”

“I know.” He says, as he lowers his sword while turning towards the demon. “There is something I must tell you too. And I’m afraid it cannot wait.” He swallows hard before continuing. “I’m sorry, my dear, I’m sorry for being a complete fool and for making you wait. I love you. More specifically, I am in love with you, and I have been for a very long time. I was afraid of what Hell would do to you and what Heaven would do to me. But none of that matters anymore. All that matters to me right now is you.”

Crowley smiles as he removes his sunglasses, revealing his golden eyes. “Took you long enough.” Crowley laughs while reaching out his hand toward him. “Angel, you are, and always have been, the love of my life.”

He reaches towards the demon-his demon and gently threads his fingers between Crowley’s, giving his hand a gentle squeeze.

“Time to finish this?” He asks with a smile.

“I believe it is, my angel.” Crowley says as he raises his tire iron and points it towards the wrathful creatures in front of them. “Ready to die?”

“I am now.” He nods as he grips Crowley’s hand tighter. “By your side.” 

......


	26. The First Day of the Rest of Their Lives

Love Prompt!

In a flat in London, an angel and a demon sit nervously upon a couch, unsure how to proceed now that they have been abandoned by Heaven and Hell respectively, confessed their feelings awkwardly and survived near annihilation by their (former) respective alliances.

“They were going to kill you with Holy Water. I had to watch as they destroyed a small demon creature. It was horrible.” Aziraphale stared into the demon’s ochre eyes, eyes he’d come to know as well as his own. 

“They didn’t even give you a trial, just went straight for your punishment. Cruel, if you ask me.”

Aziraphale fumbled with his bow tie, adjusting it as he tried to summon his courage.  I managed to waltz into Hell, deceive them and leave them terrified, surely I can be brave now.

Crowley continued to rant about how horribly Heaven had treated him while he was in Aziraphale’s body, when he was suddenly interrupted.

The angel abruptly leaned in and placed a kiss upon his lips; soft and gentle and wholly unexpected by the recipient. Tenderly, Aziraphale ran his fingers through the demon’s hair, eager to touch that which he has admired for ages. 

Aziraphale broke away, startled, his eyes opened and beheld the beauty that was before him. 

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have...” The angel began.

Crowley reached for him, putting both his hands on the sides of the angel’s face and pulling his mouth to his. This time, their kiss was sloppy, messy and exhilarating. The sensation of lips against lips, tongues siding against each other, the feeling of skin they’ve been longing to touch; neither dared move, neither dare stop.

The angel released to catch his breath, resting his forehead against the demon’s as he attempted to calm himself. 

Crowley’s body shook with a heavy sob, tears flowed from his serpent eyes, freely and without worry. 

“Oh crowley! I’m so sorry! I’m sorry for everything that’s happened between us these last few days. I just couldn’t give up on them. You have no idea how badly I wanted to run off with you, if you’d asked me a third time, I wouldn’t have had the strength to say no.” Aziraphale cried as he stroked the demon’s cheek, once more placing his head against his, rubbing the tip of his nose against the demon’s, producing a smile. “All these years, I wish we had them all to do again. I would have held you, I would have told you- I should have told you. Can you forgive me?” Tears continued to fall from the angel’s blue eyes as he spoke.

“I’ve dreamed about this for so long. Dreamed about kissing you, holding you, loving you. So many times over and over, I’ve loved you in my dreams; so much so that I forget when I awake that it wasn’t real.” Crowley said finally. “If you don’t want this, if you want everything to go back to the way it was, please tell me now. Tell me that all of this is a dream, and angel, I will believe you.” The demon sobbed. 

“Crowley...”

“Shhh, please, please be kind to my heart. I can endure Heaven’s rejection, I can handle Hell’s wrath, and I can handle a lifetime of wanting, but what I cannot endure is if we wake up tomorrow, and you’ve changed your mind. So please tell me now, am I dreaming or is this real?” Crowley’s voice broke, his body trembling.

“Oh, my darling! Look at me, look in my eyes. I’ve questioned my love for my fellow angels, I’ve questioned Heaven’s intentions and I’ve even questioned my own faith. But never, not ever, have I’ve questioned my love for you.” Aziraphale’s eyes shone as he drew the demon’s hand to his own lips, giving a kiss.“Crowley, I love you, and this is, and always will be, real for me. I love you, I love you, my darling, I love you.” The angel knelt before him, his hands grasping the demon’s. “I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, but I know that I want to face it with you. I want to be with you. Tonight, tomorrow and every day after.”

“God only knows how much I love you.” Crowley whimpered. Aziraphale swept the demon on to his lap, wrapping his arms around him, pulling him close, feeling his heart beating wildly in his chest. “I love you so much, my angel.” His voice barely above a whisper.

They remained, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms all through the night. They cried tears of joy, tears of relief and tears for all the years lost to fear. It occurred to Crowley that perhaps this was God’s plan all along; the union of two beings who should never be, Heaven and Hell cast aside, as they finally give in to each other, give into love.


	27. 55AD

Cider Prompt!

The newly named demon Crowley arrives in the country known as England alongside a flank of Roman soldiers. The demon, the favorite of the new Emperor, is sprawled out, temptingly lying on a golden litter supported by strapping young soldiers. Spoiled with pillows and glasses of Roman wine, the demon preferred to always travel in style.

Clothed in fine damask patterned silk, trimmed with golden thread depicting a red and black serpent coiled around an angel with magnificent white wings; the angel holds a bitten apple in his hand while the giant snake tongues the angel’s cheek. Those who’s eyes lingered too long at the garment would swear that the serpent moved and sometimes, wasn’t a serpent at all, but a black winged angel. One more than one occasion, it appeared that they were fighting with each other, or perhaps they were doing something else entirely.

The caravan stopped as they were encountered by a sizable group of British soldiers. A rag-tag band of local men spurred into action by the violence they’ve experienced in their young lives.

“Move, good people, or face the might of Nero’s army!” Crowley waved to the men blocking their path.

“Romans are not welcome here! We have not forgotten the slaughter of our brothers and sisters, mothers and fathers, husbands and wives. We will not lay down our arms.” One of the infantry men shouted to a chorus of cheers from his countrymen.

“Oh I don’t have time for this.” Crowley groaned as the Romans drew their weapons, at the ready for his command.

“Is that you up there, Crawley...I mean Crowley?” A familiar voice rang out.

“Aziraphale? Well, isn’t this a fine surprise.” The demon laughed as the angel came into view. “It’s alright, I know him.”

Crowley slid down from his perch, and sauntered gracefully towards the angel. More than a few soldiers watched the sway of his gait.

“What’s all this about? Little rebellion? Feeling the need to discorporate?” The demon teased.

“What happened to ‘nipping in for a quick temptation?’ I thought you said you weren’t staying in Rome for long.” The angel retorted.

“I sort of got wrapped up in things. You know these humans are, one minute they’re ready to kill you, then next, they’re falling at your feet.”

“So all this is your doing then! You persuaded the Romans to take these lands?” He angel said angrily.

“No! I had nothing to do with it! That Caligula fellow just had a wanderlust and the need to prove his virility.” The demon argued. “So, no reason to be upset then?” He lifted his glass lenses and smiled, his hair had grown longer since last they met, and it fell in long, loose waves that danced against his shoulders.

_Damn you, Crowley._ Aziraphale thought as he beheld the sinful temptation before him.  _Damn you for being so beautiful._

“Fine, not angry.” The angel relented. “How do you suppose we diffuse this situation?” 

Crowley snapped his fingers, and all the men had vanished.

“Where...where did you send them?” Aziraphale said with worry.

“Home, I sent them home.” Crowley assured, thought he wasn’t exactly certain if that was, in fact, where he had sent them.

“Well then. I say, fancy a drink? These gents make a fine new ale that I rather enjoy. It’s a nice change from that Roman wine you’ve been drinking by the barrel.” Aziraphale smiled, relaxing his stance.

“Lead the way, it’s been a while since I’ve had anything remarkable.” 

“Perhaps you should consider changing your attire. These Brittons don’t have much love for anything Romanesque.” The angel said nervously.

“I like my clothes, they’re of the finest silk.” Crowley lamented exaggeratedly. “Besides, I don’t want to look like a common peasant.”

“Do you mind if I have a go?” Aziraphale glanced at him, then at the ground, then his eyes settled once more upon the demon. 

“Fine. Just don’t make me look stupid.” The demon grumbled.

With a snap of his fingers, the angel transformed the demon’s Roman style toga into a fine, silk tunic. The print remained the angel and the demon, yet this time, the image was of the angel shielding the demon under his wing. Crowley’s hair remained long, yet was braided and secured with a golden set of wings. His Roman sandals turned to fine leather boots, trimmed with fur to keep him warm in this foul weather. His trousers expertly tailored to his slender figure.

“See? Better?” Aziraphale smirked as he admired his handiwork.

“Not terrible.” Crowley remarked as he attempted to shield his approval. “Not exactly subtle though.”

“You’re just being picky now! Come on.” The angel sighed as he beckoned the demon to follow.

They arrived at the tavern, the largest building in the village, and the liveliest. They sat across from each other at a small table in the back. The dull, soft glow of the candle their only light.

“So what is this new alcohol you’ve been going on about?” Crowley asked impatiently.

“Oh it’s lovely! And get this- it’s made from apples! I believe they call it cider.” Aziraphale buzzed with excitement. Their mugs were placed before them, and they raised them in a toast. Each took a large swig; the angel kept his eyes upon his counterpart, watching as he drank the liquor.

“Apples?” Crowley mused. “Bring me another.” He said as he slammed his empty mug on the table.

After many refills, the pair, finally relaxed and settled into their familiar rhythm, sat laughing and remembering together.

“You’re just lucky I came around when I did. Can you imagine delivering a baby? All that blood and mess...would have ruined your fancy attire.” Crowley, drunk and filled with warmth, reminisced.

“Thank God for you.” The angel giggled at his blessing. Crowley’s displeasure gave way to his own burst of laughter. “I’m serous, you’re always a welcome sight. To me at least.” The angel’s eyes fixed on the demon as he spoke.

“Is that a fact?” Crowley took another generous swig.

“It might be.” The angel’s cheeks grew red. “You’re always a lovely sight to behold.”

“Lovely?” The demon’s eyes grew wide with interest. “As in lovely to see this demon spawn from Hell?”

“What I mean to say is...beautiful .” Aziraphale stared with interest; his eyes filled with wonder and adoration.

“Beautiful?” The demon’s glass lenses slipped from his eyes, revealing the glint of gold always hidden. Many had called him such in the past, why, many had showered him with great flattery and flowery words. But this? How could single world carry so much weight? He would have laid his heart bare right then and there for this angel.

“Aziraphale, I.....” Crowley fumbled for his mug, spilling the contents all over the table and himself. “Damn it!” He grumbled as the moment between them passed. 

“No harm done, but I do suppose we should be getting home. It’s late.” The angel said, suddenly remembering himself. “Back to Rome then?”

“No.” Crowley’s voice flat, discouraged. “I’m done with their debauchery. Quite boring in fact. Perhaps I could find a new group of people to tempt.”

“Well, I imagine there’s loads of people lurking around Britain. That is, if you’re willing to stay in this unpleasant atmosphere.” Aziraphale glanced once more at the demon as he spoke.

“Well, since you put it that way. Perhaps I will stick around.” Crowley silently cursed his clumsiness. “Who knows what unexpected fruit it might yield.”

They parted, and Crowley was sorry to see him go. In the moonlight, he caught a glimpse of something bright white, shining brilliantly in the darkness: a single feather. He picked it up and examined the item, running his finger over the edge.  _An angel’s feather._ His trembled at the fallen treasure, drawing it close to his nose as he inhaled its scent.  _Aziraphale_.  He knew his smell anywhere. With this found item in hand, he walked into the dark night, his heart filled with light.


	28. Last Saturday Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter breaks format a bit, but I rather like how it turned out. Enjoy the fluff!

Champagne Prompt!

An angel and a demon walk through the grande doors of the famous London hotel, a hotel synonymous with class, luxury and wealth. There was nothing unusual about the pair sharing a meal together, in fact, they had been doing so for more than several millennia at this point. But tonight, this night, was special. 

“Your regular table, Mr. Fell and Mr. Crowley.” The hostess chirped as she escorted the gentlemen to their seats. 

“What will it be tonight angel? Hay aged bresse duck? Cornish brill? Anjous pigeon?” Crowley asked as he peered over his menu at the angel.

“I’m thinking langoustine to start, then perhaps the fallow deer or the Cornish turbot.” Aziraphale mused over the options.

“How about a little Chateau Lafite Pauillac to start with?” Crowley suggested, raising his eyebrow as he made his suggestion.

“Red? Suppose that settles it then, I’ll have the fallow deer. Oh! It comes with chestnuts! How lovely!” Aziraphale hummed happily to himself. 

The courses were brought out, one by one, and yet all of them somehow found their way in front of the angel. Crowley, ever content with wine, marveled at his beloved’s enjoyment.

“Angel, what do you remember about our first time dining here together?” The demon asked.

“I remember the waiters ogling over you and your tight pants.”

“Ha! You ordered so much food, and they had to leave the cheese tray on a tray table.”

“You ordered a £1300 bottle of wine!” Aziraphale argued.

“You ordered a second bottle of that £1300 wine.”

“And then you ordered a £3000 bottle of champagne!”

“I have standards, you know.” Crowley smirked, recalling the angel’s phrase from years back.

“That was the night you stole the silver dessert fork.” Aziraphale, clearly embarrassed, whispered.

“Our bill was damn near £8000, of course I was taking the damn fork. Besides, I’m a demon, remember?” Crowley laughed as took a drink from his crystal wine goblet.

“How could I forget.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes. His posture softened and a smile crept over his face. “I remember how you lit up when you walked into the dining room. How it filled you with wonder, reminds me of the time we saw the Northern Lights together”

“I remember how jealous you were of that one waiter. Reminds me of the time we got snowed in at that writer’s manor.”

“I remember how you showed up at my door with a box of those Italian chocolates I’m so fond of. The ones you brought over that first night you stayed at the shop.”

“How your eyes shone in the soft light of the dining room, the way they did back at that wedding in Scotland.” Crowley glanced over at his angel. “Our very first dance.”

“I remember.” Aziraphale laughed, delighted by the memory. “We were rubbish dancers.”

“We still are.” Crowley threw his head back as he laughed. He grew quiet after a moment. “Even though we are terrible, would you fancy a dance, angel?” 

“Now? Here?” The flustered angel asked.

“Now. Here.” Crowley nodded, as he stood up and extended his hand to Aziraphale, who gladly accepted.

They were a bit stiff, and awkward as they fumbled to find the rhythm, yet as always, they were patient with each other and comfortably sank into their routine. The dance mimicked the one they had been doing for centuries; the longing, the waiting, the little kindnesses and grand gestures. Crowley leads and eventually Aziraphale catches up. They belonged to each other, neither Heaven nor Hell could put asunder.

The music concluded, and they sat back down at their usual table, both a bit red from the applause of the other diners. 

“Crowley,” Aziraphale began quietly.

“Yes angel?”

“That was very nice.”

_Nice. I’m not nice, angel. Well maybe just this once._ The demon grumbled a bit as he called over to their waiter. “Dessert, my love?”

“Oh! Have you ever known me to say no?” Aziraphale giggled. “I do believe we would like that very special champagne now too.”

“Of course sirs.” The waiter said as he quickly slipped away.

“Angel, I’ve been thinking. We’ve been on this planet for how long now?” Crowley asked, a nervous tone in his voice.

“Not nearly long enough if you ask me. Why do you ask, my darling?”

“Well, I mean, we’ve been living with the humans for ages, and I’ve come to enjoy their...traditions and practices.” Crowley fidgeted in his seat. “Especially the celebration of their unions.”

“My dear, are you alright?” Aziraphale asked gently. “Ah good! Dessert and champagne are here!” The angel winked to the waiter. “This is your glass, my love. I propose a toast.”

Crowley nearly spilt the contents of his flute, as he reached for the glass in the attempt to calm his nerves. 

“Oh dear no! Don’t drink all of it!” Aziraphale cried, as Crowley choked on spirits and something metal. Aziraphale leapt from his seat and hit the demon on the back, the object flew out and landed on their dessert. Both beings looked mortified.

“Well, that didn’t go as planned.” Aziraphale frowned.

“Look at the damn cake, angel.” Crowley, still coughing, said finally.

He looked down at the marvelous confection set in front of him; heavenly angel food cake, topped with fresh strawberries and a glittering object sitting inside a small velvet box: a gold ring in the shape of a coiled serpent, in the center, just beside the serpent’s head, a massive blood red ruby. “Oh? Oh!” Aziraphale screamed as he continued to stare at the magnificent piece of jewelry. 

“But this is for you!” The angel, still speaking in a volume much louder than usual, cried as he picked up the item that had lodged itself in the demon’s throat. “You see, I had this made for you because I love you so much and I want us to be together, always!” 

Crowley looked down at the ring in the angel’s hand; a thick band with a hand carved black gold feather on one side and a platinum feather on the other, both meeting in the middle. In the center, two large diamonds, one black the other white, shining together and reflecting the other’s beauty. The demon continued to stare, unable to process what was happening.

“Is..is this for me?” Crowley stammered. “Because that is for you, and I was going to ask you to...”

“Yes!” Aziraphale squealed. “Yes! Yes of course I will!” 

“Guess that’s it then.” Crowley offered a smile as he took the ring from his angel’s hand and admired it, turning it over in his hand. 

“See? We meet in the middle, it’s our side.” The angel, finally able to control the volume of his voice cooed as he slipped in onto the demon’s finger.

“It’s perfect.” Crowley grinned.

“Well, aren’t you going to put mine on?” Aziraphale pouted.

“Right.” The demon pulled the ring from the cake and once more admired his handiwork: the intricate scales laid with black and red enamel, the two flawless yellow diamonds as the eyes on the snake, the exquisite red of the massive Burmese ruby. “I made this for you.” He blushed as he slid the serpent ring onto the angel’s finger. “Took me ages to get it right.”

“You made this?” 

“Well, I had a lot of time to plan, so I sort of wanted to do it myself no miracles, just me.” Crowley shrugged.

“I love you so much, my darling.” Aziraphale purred with joy.

“So that’s it then? Right.” Crowley hailed their waiter for more champagne.

“We should have it on the Welsh countryside, where we picnicked with Warlock. That was indeed such a lovely place. Or here, at The Ritz in the springtime!” Aziraphale chatted happily as the demon relaxed into his seat. “And there will be flowers, oh lots of flowers, red, white and....” 

_In his mind, he imagined a grand romantic gesture, one worthy of all those novels his angel was so fond of. But, of course, nothing ever turned out the way he planned. But it always worked out in the end, and as long as they were together, everything would turn out fine._


	29. 1503 and 1519

Snowball Prompt

1503 Part 1

“Signore Crowley! How good it is to see your face once again.” The painter hugged the tall and stately gentleman as he entered his workshop.

“And yours. It has been too long.” Crowley said as he returned the embrace.

“Yet the years have been kind to you, still as handsome as ever. Tell me, have you settled down yet? Found a companion to share your life with?” The artist asked eagerly.

“There is someone, but I know nothing will come of it. We are just too different.”

“Why is that?”

“Because my love is like an angel, good and pure, with eyes of blue and pale hair. Too perfect for someone like myself.”

“I see. This angel of yours is out of your reach then?”

“Unfortunately. But I suppose that’s my lot in life, to suffer the curse of unrequited love.” Crowley grumbled. “How goes the painting? Finished the lady and the weasel yet?”

“Ah, Signore Sforza’s mistress. Yes, yes all done. I have a new commission, one that stirs me to my very soul. I fear I may never finish.”

“What is it about this subject that is so difficult? Are they that ugly?” Crowley scoffed.

“On the contrary, she is mysterious, aloof and throughly captivating. There is something hidden just behind her eyes, it’s as if she has a secret that I could uncover if I look long enough.”

“Sounds like you’re making it harder than necessary.”

“Perhaps.” The artist concluded. “Come, have a look. This is a sketch that has damn near driven me to madness.”

“Looks alright to me, just an ordinary woman.” Crowley said, clearly unimpressed, while the painter studied him closely.

“Ahhh, can I ask a favor of you, my friend? Will you sit for me, so that I might paint you? I could use some inspiration, and there is no greater subject than you.”

“Well, I suppose. But I’m going to need some wine- and not that cheap stuff you give your apprentices!” Crowley quipped while pulling up a chair.

“I will need to see your eyes, Signore Crowley. How can you expect me to capture your radiance?”

“Is that necessary? I have this condition, and the light bothers me...”

“You think that I don’t know what you are, what you truly are? Ha! You’re not the only one keeping one of Her secrets.” His old friend offered a half smile as he gathered his paintbrushes.

Crowley sat, bewildered by this revelation, and a look of confusion set upon his face.  _How could he know? He’s just a man?_

For a long while, the demon pondered his old friend’s words, mulling them over as he sat.

“It’s brilliant!” The painter exclaimed as he gazed over his work. “Just brilliant.”

Crowley slid from his seat, eager to see his likeness, yet the artist showed him away. 

“No no! I’m not showing you! You will say something that will make me hate it, and I need this as a reference. Perhaps when I am finished with Signore del Giocondo’s commission, I will show you.”

“I will be away for a while, but I will get back here to see you as soon as I’m able.” Crowley clasped his friend on the arm as he said his farewell. “Perhaps next time we can talk about Her.” 

“Perhaps.” Leonardo da Vinci said with a wink.

......

1519 Part 2

In the vibrant city of Florence, an angel leaving the library sees a familiar face in the crowd.

“Crowley? Fancy running into you here.” Aziraphale’s smile was warm and welcoming. “What brings you to Florence this time of the year?”

“Hello Aziraphale.” The demon said with surprise. “I’ve been in and out of this city for quite sometime now, this is the center of the world, and I’d be a fool not to make my presence known. Though I’ve only recently come back here in the last few months. Seems my return was too late...”. Crowley’s voice trailed.

“Don’t tell me you’re tempting these good people into evil deeds? These humans have become quite progressive and made great strides in their quest for knowledge.” The angel fretted as he patted a book in his hand.

“No! I’m not here on business, just enjoying the sights, that’s all.” Crowley grumbled at the angel’s assumptions. “Spending my Christmas here, no Hell, no duties and no temptations.”

“There is much to enjoy here. Care to stroll through the marketplace? I hear it’s filled with exotic treasures and delicious treats.” Aziraphale grinned as he raised his eyebrows.

“Always about food with you.”

“And wine! They have excellent vineyards not far from here, and the wine is some of the best in the world. We’d be amiss if we were to pass on this opportunity.” Aziraphale didn’t wait for the demon to answer, he began meandering down the cobblestone street towards the bustling center of town. The demon, as always, followed.

They strolled together, side by side, inspecting the wares from far and wide; carts and stands peddling fine silks, spices and teas settled in between painters offering their works, jewelers with gold and silver, writers and poets reading aloud from their latest offerings. Aziraphale, enchanted by them all, marveled at the market’s splendor. Crowley stood and watched his counterpart with amusement.

“Enjoying yourself?” Crowley asked as Aziraphale took a bite from a green fruit.

“Oh! This is delicious.” The angel sighed. “Try a bite. It’s called a pear, and it’s heavenly!”

“Pass. What is this here?” Crowley started towards a group of musicians, eager to hear their songs. Aziraphale slipped away to a booth located in the center of the market.

“The artist is very good.” Aziraphale said to the man seated among a slew of artwork; some were sketches of machines, one was of a set of seemingly mechanical wings.

“Signore da Vinci was the best in the world. Why, you’d be fortunate to have one of his works.” The man, clearly a former apprentice, answered.

“This one is particularly lovely!” Aziraphale remarked as he pointed to a rough sketch of an exquisite being, long flowing hair, a sharply angled jaw and vibrant eyes that appeared to peer straight through him. “I say, how much for that one?”

Aziraphale paid the peddler and looked once more at the sketch. “Such a beautiful subject, reminds me of someone.” The angel glanced knowingly at the demon who stood listening to the group of musicians, unaware that he had stepped away. 

“Lively music!” Aziraphale said as he appeared beside the demon.

“They have an interesting sound.” 

“Look, chocolates! How fortunate!” Aziraphale said with excitement as his eyes grew wide.

“I’ll take the lot.” Crowley handed the woman some coins as she packaged the candies. “You can’t have all of them, I need a few of them for some friends.”

“Friends?” Aziraphale questioned.

“What’s wrong with that? A demon can’t have friends?”

“I did not mean it like that! I was just surprised, that’s all. I’ve been trying not to become attached to them, the humans that is, I get oh so upset when they die.”

“Tell me about it.” Crowley frowned remembering the one he just lost. As if on cue, the sky changed, the air grew crisp and cold and frozen bits of water fell from the sky.

“Oh Crowley! It’s snowing!” Aziraphale’s eyes lit up as the tiny white flakes descended upon the ground. 

“That is unusual, even for this time of year.” Crowley shivered as the snow began to fall harder. “Care for a drink? I would prefer to out of this weather.” 

Aziraphale noticed the demon’s discomfort. “I would love a drink. Do you happen to know anywhere in the city?”

“I do, this way.” Crowley rubbed his arms briskly to keep warm.

Aziraphale linked his arm with Crowley’s, pulling his body closer, in the attempt to warm the freezing demon. Such a gesture was a simple act of kindness.

As the walked together, arm in arm, the angel chatting happily about the various wines he’d come to adore, when they were interrupted by a group of children. A ball of snow unexpectedly struck Aziraphale in the back and a second snow ball stuck Crowley in the chest.

“Signore Crowley! We got you! We got you!” Several of the children laughed as they circled the pair. “Pardon, Signore, we weren’t aiming for you.” One of the kids apologized to the angel.

“That you did, but now it’s my turn! You’d better run!” Crowley grinned as he scooped up some fresh snow from the ground and tossed it gently into the air, making it burst in spectacular fashion as it fell around the kids. They laughed with delight, as did the demon, smiling at the mischievous youth. “You’ve won, fair and square. Here now, have a chocolate. But save some for me and my companion. Oy! Not that one, it has liquor inside.” Crowley continued to smile as the children each picked from the various treats before running off.

“Friends of yours?” Aziraphale asked as he brushed the snow from his jacket.

“Just some of the kids around the neighborhood. Normally we throw tomatoes at each other as a means of a game. They’ve never hit me before, seems I was a bit distracted.” Crowley shrugged.

Aziraphale softened. “You’ve always had a way with kids. It’s sweet.”

“Maybe I’m just corrupting them. Planting the seeds of evil while they’re young.”

“You and I both know that’s a lie.”

“I like children, they’re curious and innocent and they don’t judge you.” The demon remarked plainly.

Aziraphale felt a pain of sadness,  _God judged you for your curiosity, you didn’t deserve the harsh punishment you received. _Such a realization had not dawned upon him before, and he felt tears filling his eyes.

“You alright?” Crowley asked.

“I’m fine, just a bit of snow in my eyes, that’s all.” The angel answered, linking his arm once more as the demon lead them into a small inn.

The pair enjoyed their share of wine and chocolates as the snow continued to fall. 

“I must say, thank you for the treats and for the wonderful afternoon.” Aziraphale said with sincerity. “I have something for you, I found it today at the market and I thought of you.” The angel produced the sketch and gave it to the demon. “Such a beautiful subject, the artist did a magnificent job capturing their likeness, don’t you think?” 

Crowley looked at the portrait, remembering the day he sat for his friend and the strange revelation the painter revealed to him- the revelation he never got to hear due to da Vinci’s recent passing. The demon said nothing as he shrugged, however the blush upon his cheeks and the catch in his throat let the angel know that he was thankful. 

_I know he was dear to you, he was dear to me too and I also miss him terribly_. Aziraphale thought as he looked at the ground, trying not to give himself away. 

“Anyway, Happy Christmas Crowley. I’m off to London, meant to do some blessings for the New Year. Until we meet again.” Aziraphale offered a little wave before leaving the inn.

_Happy Christmas, dear Aziraphale, this gift means more to me than you could ever know._

Crowley sat a while longer, he continued to stare at the sketch as he drank. Tears slipped down his cheeks as he remembered the man who was kind, genuine, curious, sincere and above all, incredibly talented and a genius ahead of his time. 


	30. 1942

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this image of them trying to brush glitter off each other’s faces and then this happened.

Glitter prompt

In an antiquated bookshop in war-torn London, a familiar presence is felt as a demon sweeps into the comfortable surroundings. He brings a gift of sorts, one designed to create a little mischief, and perhaps, make an angel smile.

“Got you a little something, just a card but I thought you’d like it. It’s got an angel on it.” Crowley offered as he set his hat upon the rack. “Oh, and some chocolate too. It’s hard to find decent chocolate in London, nipped over to Switzerland to get these.

Aziraphale eagerly ate a chocolate as he opened the red envelope and removed a beautiful holiday card covered in a reflective substance he had not seen before.

“Oh how lovely! These little flecks of red and gold are just magnificent. Look, I have one on my hand.” The angel said as he shook his hand, unfortunately it was the hand still holding the card.

The demon snickered, eagerly watching what he knew was inevitable.

“Hello! Now there’s more and it’s managed to get all over the floor too!” An increasingly flustered Aziraphale noted. “And it’s on my coat! Crowley! What is this stuff?”

The demon just laughed as he watched the angel attempt to wipe the sparkles from his coat, only to spread more with each pass.

“Help me get this off! What sort of demonic work is this?” Aziraphale cried out in frustration.

“Like it? This is one of mine. Gave some American the idea a while ago, seems it finally made it’s way to London.” Crowley grinned. “It’s called glitter, and it gets everywhere!”

“Glitter? Well it’s most diabolical of you...ahhh choo!” The angel sneezed, a spray of glitter flew into the air, landing all over the pair. “Ow! Now it’s in my eye! Crowley, help me! It hurts!”

“Come on now, let me have a look.” The demon leans forward, his hand resting against the angel’s cheek. He removed his glasses in attempt to see better. “Hold still, you’re more wiggly than I am!”

“I’m trying to, but it hurts!” 

“Almost..there! Got it!” Crowley victoriously raised his finger in front of the angel, showing off the offending particle.

“Thank you for that.” Aziraphale offered a cheeky grin. “You’ve got a little bit on your face. Let me get that for you.” The angel rubbed his fingers against the delicate skin under Crowley’s eye. “How in the Hell are there two of them now?” The angel cursed as he successfully brushed the glitter away. The demon gave a shiver in delight at the angel’s touch.

“You’ve got a bit...riiiiiight there.” Crowley carefully inspected.

The angel stood, breathless as he felt the demon’s warm finger slide across his lower lip, the most intimate gesture ever to pass between them, tempting the angel to his very core.

Crowley’s eyes darted from the angel’s mouth to his eyes, and held his gaze. He swallowed hard, feeling as if he might fall straight through the floor and continue falling; yet it would be worth it for what might come next. He leaned closer, and to his amazement, so did Aziraphale. He could see the gold of his eyes reflecting in the angel’s, they were a breath away, so close he could almost taste the chocolate the angel had just eaten a moment before, so close the tips of their noses brushed, so very close...

The bell on the door chimed and an elderly woman wandered into the bookshop, startling the angel, sending him forward, knocking the demon off his feet and sending them both tumbling to the floor with a thud.

“Excuse me, do you sell that book about the curious monkey? I think his name is Hans or Cecily or something.” Her shrill voice called out from the door.

“I’m sorry?” Aziraphale called to the woman, yet his eyes were upon Crowley. The angel stood up, and offered his hand to the demon, hoisting him easily to his feet. Nervously, Aziraphale fiddled with his tartan bow tie before addressing the intruding customer. “The what now?”

“The monkey! I want that book about the curious monkey that gets into trouble. I like monkeys.” She yelled back.

“Uhh, no, we don’t carry children’s books here.” He grumbled, frowning as the old lady slammed the door behind her. 

Once more, they were alone.

“There’s glitter everywhere, this stuff really is a menace.” Aziraphale said quietly as he brushed a layer from his coat, trying to steady himself.

“One of my best, if you ask me.” Crowley offered a weak smile, clearly disappointed by the intrusion.

“How ever will I get it from the hardwood?” Aziraphale’s eyes widened, his lip pursed in a pout.

“Ok. Fine.” Crowley snapped his fingers, destroying all the errant glitter in the shop. “Better?”

“Yes, much. Thank you.” Aziraphale, still flustered, turned to busy himself with a stack of books. 

“Suppose I should be off then.” Crowley shrugged. “Will I see you for Christmas? I was invited to Mr. Olivier’s for Christmas Eve, care to be my plus one?”

“Is that one of your new American friends? Is that where you were all those years?” Aziraphale tried to hide the jealously in his voice.

“Just an actor from Hollywood, angel. And I doubt I’ll be headed back to that foul country again. Next time Hell asks, I’ll tell them to send Hastur.”

“Americans.” Aziraphale rolled his eyes.

“You didn’t give me an answer. Care to go to the party with me?”

Aziraphale knew he should politely decline, give an excuse- any excuse to shield Crowley from potential danger.  _Thank you for the invitation, but I’m afraid I must decline_.  He practiced saying it in his head first. “I...that would be lovely.” Aziraphale surprised himself by agreeing. Judging by the demon’s reaction, he was equally surprised.

“Right. Pick you up at 8 then?” Crowley offered as he put his hat on.

“Yes. Tip top.” The angel turned quickly, trying to calm the heavy beating of his heart.  _What are you doing? You’re being ridiculous and you’re putting him in danger. What if Hell were to find out?_

Aziraphale continued to pace the floor with worry.  _ It is just a party, and there will be lots of people there, and perhaps I can do a little good, given the state of the world. He reasoned.  _ _Besides, what happens inside the bookshop is beyond Hell’s reach. They cannot breach my defenses. But I must be more cautious, this can never happen again. I cannot lose him_.  He glanced at the glittering Christmas card; the angel on the front looked familiar, as did the serpent designed to look like a lovely boarder around the edge, letting the angel know that this card was handmade by the demon. He sighed as he put the card into his box of keepsakes.  _I cannot lose you because I love you._


	31. May 2020

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short and sweet

Resolution prompt

“My darling, I resolve to love you, and love you I will, for all the days that come and even if those days end, I will continue to love you forevermore. I pledge to remain by your side, on our side, come what may. You are my world and I know that wherever you are, is where I belong.”

“My angel, I resolve to give you the best of me. For my faith in you shall never waver, but only grow over time. I resolve to take care of you, always protect you and fight beside you. My love for you shall remain steadfast and enduring. I promise you all this and more, for the best is yet to come.”

In the quaint village of Tadfield, on a fine afternoon in May, two souls finally become one. What God has put together, let no being put asunder. 


	32. December 31st, 1799

Auld Lang Syne prompt

“Did getting locked up in the Bastille teach you nothing? You continue to dress in such an outlandish manner, you’re going to get yourself discorporated and you can’t say that I didn’t warn you.” Crowley groaned as the shuffled by a group of young British officers as they made their way down the street.

“Oh come now! I’m not that overdressed and at least I’m not looking as ghastly as you!” Aziraphale bickered. “Honestly, those pants of yours are practically obscene!”

“At least I know how to blend in, you just stand out, literary everywhere you go. Lucky it hasn’t caused more problems for you.” Crowley 

grumbled. “So you’re finally going to let me see what you’re done to your little bookshop then? Feels like it’s been ages since you’ve let me into your humble home.”

“It’s not a little shop anymore, Crowley. I made some changes.”

“About time, that tired old building has been your base of operation for...well, since forever.” 

“It was in need of some updating, and my last place was more of a library, this is, ah, just see for yourself.”The angel glowed with pride as they turned a corner and stood in front of a stately stone building.

“You have been a busy little bee, haven’t you?A.Z. Fell and co?” Crowley read. “Who is the co?” 

Aziraphale shrugged. “It’s just a title really. Would you like to come in?” The angel and demon stood together at the threshold, as Aziraphale opened the door.

The space was large, warm and still the remarkably unorganized chaos that Crowley knew so well. Four grand pillars now stood in the center, above them, a massive window allowing Heaven’s light to filter in, filing the room with a pale light. In typical Aziraphale fashion, the furnishings were just a bit out of style to ever be mistaken for modern.

“I see you kept the old furniture.” Crowley remarked.

“Can’t expect me to change everything.” 

“The silver tea set is new. Angel wings on the cups? Really?” Crowley snickered as he picked up one of the polished pieces. The angel pretended not to hear him.

“Seems like you have no intention of actually selling any of these books.”

“I have some intention.” The angel scoffed. “But not much.”

“A lot of work to open up an enormous book shop with the intention is not to sell any actual books.” Crowley meandered around the room, admiring the splendor and noting the personal touches the angel had installed. “I do like what you’ve done with the place.”

“Oh thank you.” Aziraphale said as he tidied some leaflets.

“Gabriel approve of it? I mean, all these little Heavenly touches must really put a cheery smile on that face of his.” Crowley grimaced.

“I didn’t exactly tell them yet.”

“You didn’t tell them what?” Crowley asked, carefully studying the angel’s posture change.

Aziraphale answered by gesturing, a grimace overcame him as he genuinely feared Heaven’s reaction.

“How could you not tell them? You’ve been talking about having a proper book shop for the last 200 years now.” Crowley said with surprise.

“It never came up. It’s been ages since Gabriel or any of them have been on Earth, and I haven’t been summoned to Heaven since the birth of Christ.”

“You just miracled this immense building into existence and you expect Heaven not to notice?” The demon laughed over the angel’s boldness.

“I didn’t miracle anything. I built it myself.” Aziraphale said quietly.

“All of it?” Crowley looked around with wonder. “By yourself?”

“Yes.” Aziraphale fiddled with his collar. “I rather like the work, and it didn’t take that long to finish. Mostly a labor of love, so to speak.” The angel ran his fingers over the marble pillar, seemingly impressed by his own handiwork, despite his efforts not to show his vanity. “But anyway, this is the new shop and you’re the very first to see it completed.”

“I suppose we should celebrate, seeing how this is the last night of the century and the realization of your bookshop finally coming together.”

“Well, we have celebrated much lesser achievements, and I do have some single malt scotch I was planning on drinking soon anyway.” The angel mused as he pulled the glasses off their shelf; two of them, no more, no less. “Where would you like to go this time to ring in the New Year? Obviously Paris is out. Florence? It’s been a while since we’ve been there. Perhaps Edinburg, you like Scotland and they are an exciting bunch.” 

“Actually angel, I was thinking we should just stay in and celebrate here.” Crowley said with a shrug.

“You mean you don’t want to parade yourself around an adoring crowd?” 

“I was thinking it could just be us.” Crowley bit his lip. “Just a quiet night in, you and me.”

“Alright then.” Aziraphale poured them each a drink. “Cheers.” 

“Angel,” Crowley began. “This place really is lovely.” He watched the angel blush as a smile spread across his face.

“Thank you. It’s a bit formal and open. I have a room towards the back that I believe might be more comfortable.” Aziraphale noted the demon’s propensity to sit awkwardly in chairs, especially the fine vintage pair in the center of the shop. “Follow me.”

Aziraphale’s office was more an intimate space, with tidier shelves and a large chaise, perfect for lounging. The angel lit the oil lamps, their shades cast a crimson color across the room; a stark contrast from the swathe of golden sunlight in the main room.

Crowley settled upon the green and tan upholstered chaise and allowed the plush cushions to curve around him. “Oh, this I like.” He hissed in approval.

“Care for another drink?” The angel asked.

“Have you ever known me to say no to you?” 

“My dear, it’s been so long that I cannot recall.”

“Angel, do you really believe that God intends for all of this to end one day?” Crowley, ever curious asks after several drinks.

“I don’t like to think about that.” Aziraphale confessed. “In the beginning, it was easier to keep myself detached from them. But now?”

“Oh come now! You’ve been fond of them right from the start! You gave away your damn sword, remember?”

“Right.” The angel shrugged as he slung back the rest of his drink.

“What was I saying?” Crowley pulled off his sunglasses and rubbed his eyes. He set them down on the table as he began to walk around.

Aziraphale said nothing as his eyes lingered over the demon for a little too long.

“Oh never mind.” Crowley said as something caught his attention. “Do you hear that? Sounds like singing.”

“It cannot be morning already?” Aziraphale fumbled for his pocket watch, squinting to see the lines. “Apparently, we’ve missed the arrival of the new year.”

“And the new century!” Crowley grinned. “How about it, angel, fancy making a resolution?”

“I resolve to do good, more good, oodles of good deeds. What about you?” Aziraphale hiccuped.

“Me? No resolutions for me. I’d rather get a New Years kiss.” The demon winked while the angel once again pretended not to hear him.

“It does sound like singing. Let’s go listen!” Aziraphale leapt from his seat, grabbed the demon by the arm and dragged him out of the shop onto the street.

There was a crowd gathered, men and women, young and old standing across the street from the shop. They were singing an old folk song, yet the lyrics were different.

“Auld Lang Syne.” Aziraphale said knowingly. “It’s by a remarkable Scottish poet. Honestly, my dear, do you read at all?”

“Not if I can help it.” Crowley muttered, knowing his words would draw the angel’s ire.

“I love the promise each passing year brings. The chance to improve, to progress and to create. There’s no other time I feel as optimistic as I do on this day. Happy New Year.” Aziraphale nudged his counterpart gently in the arm. “You’re not wearing your glasses! You’ve left them in the shop. I will grab them for you.”

“S’alright angel.” Crowley turned to face the angel, their eyes meeting under the canopy of stars above them. “Happy New Year, my old friend. Here’s to your bookshop, and for what it’s worth, I think Heaven should be proud of your accomplishments.”

Crowley continued to keep his eyes upon the angel.  _All the moments we’ve shared together,I know you better than any angel, and you, you know me better than any demon_. He thought.  _When will you see that we don’t belong to them, that we belong to each other. We are on our own side, together until the end._

As the crowd dispersed, the pair made their way back into the bookshop. Aziraphale said goodnight, as he prepared to officially open the store to the public in the morning. Crowley called for his carriage, and he was whisked away to his home. He sat and decided that it was time to compose a letter; a letter that may not ever be delivered, but one that he needed to write none the less. A letter telling him everything, all the things Aziraphale deserved to hear and all the things he wanted to say. 


End file.
